Redemption
by Somniabunt
Summary: After the fall, comes the recovery. After the destruction comes the redemption. He thought they had the perfect relationship. She never thought that returning to Hogwarts after the battle would change her life so much. He never thought that he was worth a second chance. The war changed them all. Now it's up to them to move forwards. Post War, 7th Year.
1. Prologue

_I own nothing but the plot._

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**September 1, 2019**

Autumn seemed to arrive suddenly that year. The morning of the first of September was crisp and golden as an apple, and as the little family bobbed across the rumbling road towards the great, sooty station, the fumes of car exhausts and the breath of pedestrians sparkled like cobwebs in the cold air. Cages rattled and the wheels of trolleys mixed with the sounds of rushed footsteps and loud phone calls as commuters wound their way through the platforms, heading to their destinations.

No one so much as blinked when a family of four seemingly vanished into thin air, their disappearance obscured by the large brick pillar between platforms nine and ten.

Harry Potter emerged onto platform nine and three quarters and couldn't stop the look of longing and awe that spread across his face as he surveyed the platform, which was obscured by thick, white steam that was pouring from the scarlet Hogwarts Express. A nudge at his elbow tore Harry from memory lane, and he blinked a few times before looking down at his son.

"I can see Uncle Ron over there."

Harry just nodded, steering the trolley over towards where his oldest and dearest friend was standing with his own family, a pair of young redheaded children and his brunette wife.

"If you're not Gryffindor, I'm disowning you!" Ron could be heard saying as the Potter clan approached.

"Ron, don't tell the kids such horrid things already!" Ginny scolded him, especially noticing the colour draining from her youngest son's face. Releasing the grip on her daughter's hand, she nudged the child off to interact with cousins, her hand now coming up to give Ron a solid smack upside the head.

"Ow!" Ron cried out indignantly, a wounded look taking shape on his face as both his children and the Potter's started to snicker.

"You'll be loved no matter what house you get sorted into," Ginny began to comfort the new, soon to be first year children, but Ron was no longer paying attention. Catching Harry's eye, he nodded covertly to a point some fifty yards away. The steam had thinned and for a moment, three people stood in sharp relief against the shifting mist.

"Look who it is."

Draco Malfoy was standing there with what appeared to be his two sons, a dark coat buttoned up to his throat, his once slicked back blonde hair surprisingly tousled, though not nearly as badly as the eldest Potter. Draco was resting a hand on his youngest son's shoulder, a serious look on his face as he spoke to the surprisingly dark haired boy. But for the differences that could be seen there, the older Malfoy son was a split image of his father. The same height and build, he would have been indistinguishable from Draco at the same age, if not for the far more casual hairstyle.

"Wonder where his wife is… or even who his wife is," Lavender Weasley mused out loud, joining the duo in watching. Draco caught sight of Harry, Ron, Ginny and Lavender staring at him, and nodded curtly at the group before turning away again.

Even as they watched, a woman approached, her dark hair pulled up into an intricate knot, a dark coat covering most of her outfit. Her arm was around the shoulders of a tall girl with trademark Malfoy hair. The new Malfoy matriarch turned to say something to her son, and her soft, heart shaped face became visible when the steam cleared again.

"Isn't that-" Lavender gasped before slapping a hand over her mouth, completely shocked. She didn't get a chance to finish her sentence before the Draco's wife had disappeared again after ushering her children towards the train, the sharp trill of a whistle blowing through the platform, reminding all of the impending departure time.

Tearing his gaze away from the Malfoy's, Harry turned to his own children, with tight hugs, reassuring promises and hushed conversations, he directed his two boys to the train as Ron did the same to his daughter.

The two men stood together, watching the train as doors started to slam shut, preparing to leave. Children leaned out of the windows, laughing and waving at their parents, even as younger siblings cried and first time parents shed their own tears.

"Can you believe that we were once those kids?" A soft, feminine voice broke the silence that the two men had fallen into, and they both turned to see Hermione Granger, smiling sadly at them.

"You!" Ron started even as Harry greeted their old friend.

"Hermione…"

"It's been a while, boys," Hermione didn't lose her sad smile, but her hand did raise to wave at one of her children as the train started to pull away from the platform with another sharp whistle.

Harry was torn between his old friend and the moving train, taking a few steps in the end to follow the train with his boys on it. He didn't need to look to know that Ron and Hermione were making the same trek alongside him, that the silence enveloping the platform wasn't just because of the absence of the train, but instead from the presence of the Golden Trio.

Stopping at the end of the platform as the train rounded a corner and disappeared from sight, Harry finally turned to look at his best friend, and the woman who once claimed that title as well.

"It's… been a while," he agreed.

"That's not my fault," Ron snarked, already on the defensive. While their relationship may have never worked out, he was still hurt at the fact that it never got off the ground long enough to even try, and the what ifs still haunted him.

"I never said it was," Hermione was hurt, but she had known to expect this. She hadn't seen her friends in nearly twenty years, after all. She could sense her husband nearby though, practically feeling his penetrating gaze burning into the back of her head.

"How did we get like this?" Harry shook his head slightly and took a deep breath as the last trace of steam evaporated in the autumn air, leaving the Golden Trio standing on the edge of the platform, a trio once so united and known around the community, now barely strangers to one another.


	2. Chapter 1

_I own nothing but the plot._

* * *

**August 3****rd****, 1998**

The conversation around the kitchen table in the Burrow was subdued, only the occasional quiet request to pass the butter, or jam. Most of the noise came from the clinking of cutlery on plates as the Weasley children, plus Harry and Hermione ate.

A screech filled the air as a regal looking owl swooped through the open kitchen window, depositing a stack of letters in the centre of the table. Molly Weasley reached for the pile with a frown, starting to go through the mail, issuing out letters to two of her children, and the two guests.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me!" Ron exclaimed as he recognised the Hogwarts crest on the envelope.

"Ronald Weasley watch your language!" Molly scolded, her frown deepening. She had expected a letter for Ginny, but was surprised by the other three, although she was also relieved that things were going back to normal.

"Sorry Mum," Ron apologised sheepishly, throwing his letter down with disgust and looking towards his best friend and girlfriend, hoping they would feel the same. Harry was distracted as he stroked the tawny owl, feeding it bacon from his plate, clearly pining the loss of Hedwig. Hermione, on the other hand, was biting her bottom lip, tears shining in her eyes as she looked at her cupped palm.

"I… I… I'm Head Girl…" was all Hermione managed to choke out, the glinting badge resting in her hand, the letter abandoned on the table, still unread.

"You what!? How?!" Ron started, snatching up the letter, his face slowly turning a similar shade to his hair as he read more and more.

_Dear Miss Granger_

_We are pleased to invite you back to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry to complete your 7__th__ year. _

_In light of the events of the last twelve months, a decision has been made with between educators and the Ministry of Magic that all students shall repeat the previous year. New and existing first year students will be combined._

_Whilst we realise that this is an unprecedented situation, your cooperation and understanding is appreciated and as such, we are pleased to announce your new position as Hogwarts Head Girl. _

_Term starts on September 1__st__, and we await your confirmation of attendance by owl no later than August 20__th__. _

_Sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall_

_Headmistress_

"This is absolute fucking bullshit, they can't seriously expect us to go back to school like nothing happened. Like there wasn't a fucking war!" Ron threw the letter down in disgust, turning to Harry for support, though the Chosen One just sat still, clearly not sure of what to do.

"Ronald Billius Weasley I will not have such language in my house and you most certainly WILL be attending school once more. Things need to get back to normal and I cannot keep worrying about you all," Molly scolded her youngest son, her eyes flicking to the empty seat that Fred once occupied. A silence descended upon the kitchen, heavy as everyone remembered what had been lost, and tried to come to terms with what would be.

"Maybe it'll be nice to get back to normal?" Ginny tried to lighten the mood, reading through her own letter that announced her repeat of sixth year. Reaching for Harry, she placed her hand over his. "It's just one more year, if you could get through the War, we can get through this. It'll be fine."

She didn't have to say anything else, those words having an impact on Harry as he suddenly pushed himself back from the table, standing abruptly. With barely a word to anyone, he stormed out of the kitchen, disappearing through the back door. Sighing, Ginny made to follow. This was not an unusual event these days, as the suffering war hero tried to come to terms with who and what he was, and what his role in the new order of the wizarding world would be. Raising a hand, Ron stopped her movements.

"Don't, I'll go. I know what he's going through. Hermione?" Ron turned his gaze to his girlfriend as he stood to follow the leader of the Golden Trio, but her attention was still firmly on the badge in her hand. "Hermione!" Still getting no response, he gave a disgusted grunt before storming out after Harry.

"I'm Head Girl…' Hermione whispered once the boys had left the kitchen, leaving her with Molly and Ginny. Tears slowly rolled down her cheeks as she became overwhelmed with emotion, the sorrow at not being able to share this moment with her parents mixing with the joy of one of her childhood dreams being realised.

"And we're so very proud of you, Hermione dear," Molly was quick on the uptake, bustling around the table to wrap the quietly sobbing girl in a loving, maternal hug. Molly could only hope that Hermione would be the one to convince the two boys of the need to return to school and finish their education, everyone in desperate need of some form of normalcy in order to continue with their lives in the post-War world they found themselves in. Death Eaters were still being hunted down and captured daily, as Voldemort sympathisers slipped back into the shadows and those in favour of blood status quietened down.

There was a lot of work ahead of the community, but all Molly knew is that she didn't want her children, and the teenagers that had become her family too, to be wrapped up in more than they needed to. It had been enough that they fought in the war, now it was time to find their own lives.

"C'mon 'Mione. You, me, shopping. We need new books and robes **and **definitely need some girl time," Ginny was quickly up and hugging the older witch as well, trying to stop the depressed rut that Hermione had been in since returning from Australia from taking over again.

Hermione couldn't even respond, just nodding as she choked back another sob, her fingers closing around the badge to make a fist. It was no question that she would return to school, the younger students needed guidance and if she could help, then she was going to be there.

"Wonderful, Ginny. You girls go. Be home before dark," Molly shooed the pair away, relieved that at least her daughter was aware of emotions even if almost all of her sons completely lacked the ability.

The whump of flames was barely heard as the two girls disappeared for a day in Diagon Alley, and Molly Weasley slumped into a chair at the family table as tears of her own started to streak down her face. The War had taken from them all, the loss of one of her sons, and she feared she was going to lose another two as she stared out the back window, barely able to see the backs of the two young men who had shouldered more than anyone their age should.

Hogwarts was what they needed. Hogwarts was what they all needed.


	3. Chapter 2

_I own nothing but the plot._

* * *

**August 3****rd****, 1998**

Hermione Granger liked control. She needed control, craved it. It was what drove her so hard, in her studies, with her friends, with every aspect of her life. Hermione liked to throw herself head first into each challenge, researching and beating everything down until she could control it. It was how she'd been built, something she'd done ever since she was a small child.

So being so out of control, was really starting to get to her. In the weeks after the Final Battle, Hermione had slipped off without Harry or Ron. Unbeknownst to them, she had made her way through apparition, portkeys and muggle flights where needed, until she was in Perth, Western Australia. It had taken some time, but she was finally able to track down a dental practice being run by Wendall and Monica Wilkins – the identities she had given to her parents, to protect them. Hermione spent days working on the memory charms she had laid, trying to figure out a way to break through them and restore everything without damaging her parent's minds. Ultimately though, she was unsuccessful and was forced to return to England, alone. That was the first time Hermione had ever lost control over something in her life, and she didn't know what to do about it.

Receiving the Head Girl badge and finding out that she was able to return to school was the first taste of normalcy that Hermione had experienced in a while, and for that she was grateful, but it still wasn't quite enough to pull her from her thoughts. She barely noticed as Ginny led them through the winding cobblestone streets of Diagon Alley, and her heart wasn't really into it when she stopped and waved to all those who recognized her, the smile never really reaching her eyes as they meandered. Diagon Alley was slowly rebuilding, shops were opening again and life was coming back to the community. There was still some sadness lingering, shops that had yet to reopen, or to find new owners, but the signs of recovery were strong.

"… or we could go to the Joke Shop!" Hermione blinked a few times and turned to look at Ginny as the redhead rattled off suggestions for the day. She had missed most of the options whilst lost in her own thoughts. It was almost lucky she had tuned in now, judging by the expectant look on Ginny's face.

"I don't know… I want to do something fun. Something wild. Let's be reckless," Hermione tugged her bottom lip between her teeth as she looked around, still wandering aimlessly down the streets. She didn't know what she wanted to do, but she knew she wanted it to be something big. Something that would help her get her control back, even if it was only temporary.

"Jewelry? Ooh, what about a piercing!?" Ginny beamed, dragging Hermione over to a shopfront, the window casings full of displays of Goblin made jewelry and priceless gems.

"Maybe…" Hermione was surprised by how intriguing that suggestion was, although nothing in the window display was catching her attention, nor did either of them have enough galleons to afford it right now.

"Oh my God, what about something even better?! Do you trust me?" Ginny whipped around to stare at Hermione, a wicked, sparkling glint in her eyes.

"I trust you…" Hermione was still a bit weary, leaning back as she watched the younger witch before she was dragged off. Ginny kept her arm linked with Hermione's as she dragged them through the winding streets, ducking between buildings now and then to get away from people who recognized them. "Ginny, where are we go-" Hermione cut herself off as she realized where they were, not needing to ask anymore. The crooked sign on the wall proclaiming Knockturn Alley was enough of a give away. "Ginny, what are we doing?"

"You'll see!" Ginny didn't drop her beam, flouncing off between the buildings as she dragged Hermione into the less reputable alley. Skillfully dodging peddlers with wares that neither girl was sure were legal, or ethical in some regards, Ginny led them through to a darkened shop, making her way there from memory alone. "Bill brought me here last year when he wanted some work done."

Hermione didn't even get a chance to respond, all she could do was raise an eyebrow as Ginny opened the door and dragged her into the store. Inside was dark, a few candles floating throughout the room giving off an eerie glow, shadows casting across the walls. Blinking, Hermione looked around as her eyes started to adjust, and she realized that the shadows on the walls weren't exactly that – the walls were covered in designs and drawings, artwork covering almost every inch of space. A dark leather couch sat alone in the middle of the room, facing three doors leading to additional rooms. There was silence from the first, although the occasional grunt of what could only be described as a male in pain was heard from the middle.

"Ginny where the fuck are we?" Hermione hissed, stepping closer to the younger witch. She knew that she said she wanted to be wild, but this didn't seem like the kind of place two young women should frequent. Especially not alone.

"You're in the Spider's Lair," A male voice answered, the last door now open, revealing a surprisingly clinical looking room behind. The man was tall, his dark hair falling to his shoulders, an even darker robe covering his body. "Home of traditional and modern inkwork, artwork and tattoos."

"… tattoos?" Hermione blinked, her mouth falling open as she realized, and ideas started to spiral into her mind. Ginny flounced forwards again, abandoning Hermione to start talking animatedly to the man, describing an idea that it seemed like she'd wanted for a while.

"I've wanted to get one done ever since Bill brought me here… mum'll kill me but it'll be worth it," Hermione caught the end of Ginny's explanation, coming to her senses again as the redhead disappeared into the open room, already shrugging off clothing. The man followed behind her, but not before another employee appeared, a witch not much older than Hermione herself appearing to take over.

"So, got anything in mind hon?" The witch sat down on the couch, lounging back as she watched Hermione, the pair alone in the waiting room now.

"What did he mean, traditional and modern?" Hermione's need for knowledge took over, thoughts and ideas still whirling through her mind, but she needed to know more before making any decision. She wanted control, but needed to know it was all hers.

"That's fair, hon'. We use modern techniques to lay ink under the skin for radiant designs with minimal movement. They'll last 3-5 years before needing to be touched up as the magic in your blood wears away the ink. We also offer traditional work, but you must know, that's a more extensive process. Each line is put in individually and the ink is imbued with dragon's blood. They'll never fade or disappear, but be warned. The cost to these is more extensive, for your own magic will give life to the image and it will be part of your body forever. They can cover any mark or scar on your body and render it invisible to the naked eye, but only if the original marking was done against your will. The magic in these traditional pieces is… strong."

Hermione stared intently at the closed middle door as the woman explained to her, her mind never stopping as she pieced together that whoever was behind that door was going through a painful, permanent piece of work. Waiting until the last words were spoken, she turned to face the artist. Hermione Granger was going to regain control of her life, one day at a time if she had to. Yanking the sleeve of her shirt up, Hermione thrust her arm out, fist clenched and forearm twisted so the scarred word was visible on her skin, each line spelling out "mudblood" standing out against her otherwise smooth skin.

"Cover this."


	4. Chapter 3

_I own nothing but the plot._

* * *

**August 31****st****, 1998**

"Well… at least Mum's stopped yelling at me for a while?" Ginny mused, falling onto her bed with a huff of air. The sounds of barely muffled shouting could still be heard floating up the stairs of the Burrow, the heated row in the kitchen showing no signs of slowing down or reaching a conclusion any time soon.

Tensions had been high in the Weasley household over recent weeks. To say Molly Weasley was upset at her daughter's choice to get a tattoo would be an understatement, and Hermione hadn't fared much better under the wrath of the Weasley matriarch. The only one safe from her wrath these days was Harry, and that wasn't even because he had done anything in particular. No, instead the Boy Who Lived had left little over a week ago, opting to return to 12 Grimmauld Place, determined to make the ancestral House of Black his new home.

"I can see her point…" Hermione trailed off, wincing as both girls heard Molly's voice go up another octave. Settling back on the camp bed she was calling her own, Hermione ran her fingers idly over her forearm, once again admiring the ink work that had been laid over the scars left by Bellatrix during the War. It had taken hours and been more painful than she imagined, but now that it was there, she couldn't imagine her life without the vibrant splash of colour and life on her skin. Ginny had fared better, opting for a more modern approach, and the golden snitch gently fluttering over her hip was bold now, but both knew it would fade with time.

"Can you believe we're going back tomorrow?" Ginny turned to Hermione after the pair had sat in silence for a while, just listening to the argument down below. "I don't know how to feel, y'know? Last year was so… messed up."

"Trust me, I know… I spent most of it in a tent, remember? I guess getting back to normal is a good thing?" Hermione stopped prodding her arm and instead sat up, remembering that the pair of them were supposed to be packing their trunks for the trip back to Hogwarts in the morning.

"Will it still be normal though?" Ginny mused, sitting up as well and following Hermione's lead, grabbing a handful of books from the bedside table and tossing them carelessly into her open trunk. The dull thud of the books hitting the bottom was echoed down below with a door slamming as the heated row reached a peak. "Oh God here he comes…" Ginny winced as footsteps thudded up the staircase, stopping before her bedroom door before it was thrust open, the timber thudding against the wall.

"Just where does she think she gets off telling me what to do now… I'm a fucking adult!" Ron fumed as he stormed into his younger sister's room, his face still the same shade of red as his vibrant hair.

"Ron, you're 17… you can hardly blame her after what happened last year," Hermione started, trying to placate him instead of going on the attack like she usually would, doing her best to tread lightly in their new relationship.

"I already told her, I'm not fucking going back! Harry's not, and I'm not! I can't even believe you are. Well, you're a bookworm so I can, but. I'm not going back!" Ron ranted, storming through the bedroom until he jammed his foot on one of the open trunks. "SON OF A FUCK!" he howled as he jumped back, clutching his now throbbing foot.

"Okay, okay, calm down, jeez…" Hermione held her hands up, a frown marring her face as she registered the slight insult. Tucking her legs up under herself, she scooted back on the camp bed slightly as Ron hopped around the remaining space, still cursing colourfully. Ginny just kept throwing books into her trunk, giving an exaggerated sigh and rolling her eyes at her brother's antics.

"We get it, you don't want to go back to school. Calm down before you put a hole in my wall," Ginny scowled as Ron's elbows came dangerously close to the thing walls, his movements knocking items on her desk.

"How can she think we'll just go back to school. Like the War didn't happen. I'm a war hero for fucks sake! People respect me!" Ron fumed, dropping his foot down to stand normally instead, his arms now folded over his chest as he towered in the room, his height making him seem larger in the small space.

"We're all war heroes…" Ginny muttered, rolling her eyes at him again.

"You're not part of the Golden Trio though. **I **am! Well, 'Mione is too but again she's a bookworm so we all know she's going back to write the new edition of 'Hogwarts: A History'."

Hermione's frown deepened as she heard the second insulting comment, not sure if he was just joking and teasing, or actually having a dig at her now. She didn't think on it long, deciding to let it slide for the time being. She was still regaining control over her life, but she was stressed. They all were. She knew the War had taken a lot out of all of them, and their new relationship after so many years of friendship was the only ray of light in the world at the moment.

"Fine, you're a war hero. Don't go to school, honestly I don't care, but if mum has kittens again I'm blaming you," Ginny groused, slamming the lid on her trunk down. "Now kindly, sweetly, get out of my room, brother dearest. You're really cramping my style," She finished with a pillow thrown at Ron's head, the subsequent collision not helping his already frayed temper.

"Go fuck yourself, Gin. I need to fucking… ugh do something. Fuck this. You coming, 'Mione?" Ron scowled at Ginny before directing his question to Hermione, not that he waited for an answer. Instead he just reached out and grabbed for her hand, missing it and instead wrapping his large hand around her wrist. Tugging, he pulled the rather petit witch up off the camp bed, practically dragging her along behind him as he made his way out of Ginny's room to continue the trek up to his. Turning her head, Hermione gave Ginny a pleading look, only to be met by one of pity as she followed along behind her boyfriend, the pair set to be alone properly for the first time in weeks.

Shaking her head once her door closed, a little more crooked than it used to be, Ginny sighed.

"Yep, totally normal…"


	5. Chapter 4

_I own nothing but the plot._

* * *

**September 1****st****, 1998**

Carriages trundled through the well beaten dirt track, wheels occasionally shaking as they caught on loose rocks or particularly deep dives in the path. Where once each carriage appeared to be pulled along by invisible means, now the black, skeletal forms of thestrals caught the eye of almost every child and teenager seated. The occasional chirp of insects could be heard in the crisp night, the rustling of the leaves on trees overpowering the few hushed conversations being had.

"It doesn't feel real anymore, does it?" A male voice commented softly from next to Hermione, and she blinked a few times before turning her head to look at Neville. It was all she could do to shake her head, not trusting her words right now as she turned her attention back to the front of the carriage, a break in the trees showing the towering castle that had been their home and safest place for so many years. The castle that had seen so much death and destruction in the last twelve months.

The magical community had banded together and done an incredible job at restoring the centuries old castle in the wake of the final battle, and she was shocked to see just how little damage remained. Walls that had been crumbled now stood strong, and warm, welcoming lights flickered in the windows of even the highest towers once more. As it had once been, Hogwarts continued to be a place to welcome home all those who passed through its doors.

The carriage finally creaked to a stop at the courtyard, and Hermione waited a few minutes for the others sitting with her to vacate before she made a move herself. Neville stood waiting; his hand outstretched to guide her down. The lanky boy of their youth having filled out into a strong young man instead, a weight on his shoulders that she knew none of them could ever compare to. While she had spent the last year camping with Harry and searching for the horcruxes, he had stayed at the castle and done what he could to protect other students whilst being subject to increasing levels of torture himself from the Death Eaters who claimed to be educators.

"Thank you…" Hermione started to thank him, but her words ended up coming out far more strangled than she anticipated as she finally laid her eyes on the courtyard before the front doors to the castle. Where once an area of alcoves had been, now stood a towering white marble wall, inscribed with the names of those who laid down their lives in the Final Battle. Raising a hand to cover her mouth, Hermione struggled to keep in a sob as her eyes trailed over the names, from those she had known and fought alongside of, to others who she had shared classes, dormitories or meals with. Neville said nothing as he stepped up along side of her, his arm coming to wrap around her shoulders as he pulled her smaller form against his side, nothing but a comforting presence as past students milled around the entrance, each paying their respects in their own way to the wall of remembrance.

Barely anyone spoke, regardless of house, and tears flowed freely from those who had been there on the day, or those who recognised names inscribed as those of their loved ones. Ginny stepped up beside Hermione, tears streaking down the redhead's face as her hand came to grip Hermione's, blue eyes locked upon the chiselled letters that spelled out Fred Weasley. Dennis Creevey stood to a side, the boy taller than Hermione remembered, but also far more subdued, a camera clutched in his hand. She watched in silence as he took a few steps forwards and knelt, placing the camera at the base of the wall, under the column that bore Colin's name.

It was at that moment that the front doors finally swung open, illuminating the steps leading up, and Hermione couldn't contain her gasp, nor could many of the students as they saw the burn marks and blast stains, remnants of the damage from the battle left as a permanent reminder of what occurred, and what the price was.

"Welcome home," was the only phrase uttered by the regal and strong willed Professor McGonagall, the new Headmistress standing in the doorway for a few moments before sweeping towards the Great Hall, her stride not as powerful as it once was, a cane still visible at her side. Students slowly began to follow after her, making their way into the castle and heading towards the Great Hall themselves, chatter beginning to fill the air as memories of far better times began to settle in, the knowledge of a feast, and a year of education and safety ahead of them starting to lighten the mood. It took some effort, but the group of Gryffindor's managed to move themselves from where they had been, Hermione stepping aside for the briefest of moments to pull Dennis into a tight hug and draw him back into their group. She wasn't sure if it was her duty as Head Girl driving her movements, or the fact that he was a fellow Gryffindor, or just pure emotion that made her bring him close, but it didn't matter really, not why she was doing it. Only that she knew he needed it.

"He'll always be proud of you," she whispered against his ear, giving the boy one last squeeze before gently nudging him to take a seat on the long benches at the Gryffindor table, making sure to settle him in the direction of those in his year. He would need their support. Everyone would. They may have returned to Hogwarts, and some things may never change within the castle or the way the school year ran, but she knew that they had all changed, and that their world had changed. This was the first year of the new wizarding world, and all the students in this hall were the first generation of that change. They needed each other now more than ever if they were going to have a chance at succeeding in repairing and changing things for the better.

"Should've known you'd'a got the badge!" Seamus Finnegan grinned at Hermione, gesturing towards the Head Girl badge pinned on the front of her robes as he sat opposite her.

"Congratulations!" Dean Thomas piped in as he settled in next to his best friend, the pair clearly happy to be reunited under better circumstances. She wasn't sure what had happened to Seamus in the last year, but she knew that Dean had spent the better part of it on the run.

"Thanks, boys… it's good to see you both back here. It's good to see so many people back here, really. This… maybe we can be normal again, don't you think?" Hermione offered both a smile as she dabbed at her eyes with a napkin, drying her tears from earlier.

"What a surprise, the Head Girl is a huge stick in the mud," Hermione winced as she heard the grating tones that could only belong to Lavender Brown, her suspicions confirmed when her fellow 7th year sat at the table, snickering with the only other female from their year.

"So lovely to see you too, Lavender. Clearly some things never do change," Hermione scowled. Although the pair had never outwardly hated each other, there was no love lost. Not after the rabbit incident of 3rd year, and not after the "Won Won" incident of 6th year. Hermione definitely didn't regret sending those birds after the irritating girl.

Lavender's retort was cut off as a dull thud was heard, every set of eyes going immediately to the front of the hall where a rickety, three-legged stool was now sitting, a hat seated upon it that had seen better years. A line of nervous looking first years stood to the side, some staring around the room in awe, others fidgeting with their new robes, and more than a few looking like they were about to throw up. A few beats of silence passed before the brim of the hat opened, and the Sorting Hat began to sing.

_A thousand years or more have passed_

_Since I was new and bright_

_And since that time with all the shadows_

_This castle has been filled with light_

_Where joined four great friends _

_A school was built on stable ground _

_A place of wonder and learning_

_For when they were no longer around_

_In the eons that have gone by_

_I have watched and waited _

_In my time I have warned when needed_

_And sat to see what would be created_

_Four houses nestle within this castle_

_For so it was divided _

_And then it was made up to me_

_To see how each young mind would be decided_

_Is your home in Gryffindor?_

_Where courage is second only to heart?_

_The boldest and the bravest_

_Find their kind in daring Gryffindor._

_Perhaps you dwell with sweet Ravenclaw_

_Full of wit and the sharpest of minds_

_Those who yearn to learn and more_

_Belong in wise old Ravenclaw._

_But maybe you're for Hufflepuff_

_The loyalest of them all_

_When the chips are down and there's nothing left_

_You'll find truest Hufflepuff._

_Or what about Slytherin?_

_Where they will do what they must_

_In order to survive. _

_There is no shame in Slytherin._

_Where once I sat and dreamt_

_And sang to you of unity _

_What we feared came to pass_

_And humbled this great community_

_Do not forget those who sacrificed _

_For now is the time to do what is right_

_The future is yet to be forged_

_But we must hope that it is into the light_

_In your hearts forever more_

_Will you carry those who were lost _

_Strive forwards into the future though,_

_For we now know what is the ultimate cost._

_For now let us do the task at hand _

_I've kept you all in enough suspense _

_Have no fear, that time has passed_

_Now the sorting shall commence!_

Silence descended upon the hall once more for the briefest of moments before each student began to applaud, the thunderous clapping echoing in the hall until tiny Professor Flitwick managed to clear his throat loud enough to bring order back, his squeaky voice surprisingly loud as he read through the list of names, the new first years sorted through to their houses.

When the final name was read and the hat had at last decided on a young Ravenclaw, Flitwick gathered the hat and stool and tottered out of the hall at the same moment as McGonagall rose to stand, somewhat out of place in the seat that Dumbledore had resided in for so long.

"There are a few notes to take care of, although I know you all want to eat. I welcome you all back to Hogwarts and I am incredibly proud to see so many of you returning. The events of last year weigh heavily upon us all, but together we can move forwards and hope to achieve true healing. As you are all aware from your letters, this year will be a repetition of where you were previously at. This has never been done in the past, but it was decided in conjunction with the Ministry that it is the best course for your education. To our new first years, welcome. To our repeating first years, I trust you will do all that you can to welcome and integrate your fellow students into classes," McGonagall paused in her speech, her stern gaze sweeping around the hall. Her eyes held none of the sparkle that the previous Headmaster's had, but there was still something comforting and familiar about it.

"In addition, I would like to announce and offer my congratulations to our Head Girl, Miss Hermione Granger, and her counterpart, our new Head Boy, Draco Malfoy." Silence descended upon the hall as the Head Boy was announced, broken seconds later as whispers started across the tables, heads all turning to look at the Slytherin table, searching for a tell-tale platinum head that was clearly missing. McGonagall waited a few moments for order to return to the hall before finishing her welcoming speech. "Our Head Boy and Girl have been selected based on their academic merits and personal traits and I am confident that both will be an asset to the student body. Now, as a great man once said, nitwit, blubber, oddment, tweak." With that, McGonagall clapped her hands once and sat down, the long tables groaning as dishes upon dishes of food instantly appeared.

"So, did you know you'd be sharing with Malfoy this year, Hermione?" Neville asked as he reached for some mashed potatoes, piling them onto his plate before depositing some on Hermione's. She hadn't moved an inch since that bombshell was dropped, and it took her a few minutes more to regain her composure.

"No. I had no clue. No. Fucking. Sodding. Clue."


	6. Chapter 5

_I own nothing but the plot._

* * *

**September 12****th****, 1998**

Hermione stretched slowly with a quiet sigh; her limbs splayed out under the soft sheets of the queen-sized bed. Giving another sigh, she nuzzled against her pillow without opening her eyes. By far the best perk she'd found so far out of being Head Girl, had to be the Head Dormitory. Finally, she had a private place to study, a quiet couch to read on, and a room all to herself. And the bed! Gone was the single bed of the dormitories, instead she had her own rather large four poster bed, decked out in luxurious bedding in bold Gryffindor colours.

Opening her eyes after a few more minutes of lounging, she was met by the sun filtering through the window, brightening the room far more than she thought would happen for the fourth floor. Slipping out of bed, she wriggled her toes in the soft burgundy carpet, appreciating the sense of privacy that she currently had, and just how nice it felt on a Saturday morning. Pottering around her room, Hermione slowly got herself ready for the day, flitting in and out of the attached bathroom as she went. The first full week of lessons was over, and she was looking forwards to spending a day up in Gryffindor tower with her friends.

Checking the time, she realised it was still far too early to head up to the tower, so instead she resolved to spend some time catching up on reading, possibly over breakfast. Grabbing a book from the shelf against one wall of her bedroom, she slipped out of the room and made her way down the stairs. She was mildly surprised when she made it to the common room and spied a tousled blonde head bent over one of the large study desks, books and parchment scattered around. She had resolved herself to being cordial within a few hours of the accountment of Head Boy, trusting that McGonagall knew what she was doing.

"Morning Malfoy," she greeted as she walked past, raising an eyebrow at the fact that even at 7am on a Saturday, Malfoy was still wearing a long sleeve button up shirt. She had yet to see him in anything casual, no matter the day or time. A faint grunt was the only reply she got, but she did see his hand raise in what could possibly have been a wave. Figuring it was about as good as she would get, Hermione just shrugged and stepped out of the portrait, making her way down to breakfast.

"So, what's it like, practically living with Malfoy?" Ginny had been dying to ask Hermione for days and had barely restrained herself for the few hours that the older witch had been hanging out in the Gryffindor common room.

* * *

"It's fine, really. I barely see him," Hermione shrugged, looking up from where she was currently lounging on the hearth with Neville, a stack of cards between them as they whiled the afternoon away playing exploding snap.

"I bet he spends all his time in the dungeons with the other Slytherin's," Neville mused, flipping another card onto the pile before wincing as it blew up in his face.

"Actually, no. He's always just sat at his desk studying. Well, I guess he's studying. He's always researching and writing something… I haven't asked, I don't want to be nosy," Hermione flicked a still smouldering card towards Neville before handing the rest of her deck to Seamus, making way for him to take over her spot. Shifting on the floor, she moved until her back was resting against the nearby couch, head leaning against Ginny's knees.

"Did I honestly just hear you say you wouldn't be nosy? I find that hard to believe, shouldn't a goody two shoes like you be all up in Death Eater business?" Lavender scoffed as she appeared at the bottom of the stairs that led to the girl's dormitories, attracting the attention of the group on the floor. Parvarti was nowhere to be seen, most likely out somewhere with her twin, the two girls spending more time together after losing their parents. The absence of her best friend didn't seem to have bothered Lavender, dressed far more provocatively than any others in the room, extensive makeup covering her face.

"Where're you off to like that?" Neville raised an eyebrow as they all took her in.

"Unlike all of you, I actually have a life. I'm going on a date," Lavender huffed as she stalked past the group, somehow managing to simultaneously turn her head up at them and look down on them at the same time. Hermione's mouth opened as questions burned in her mind, but she snapped her jaw shut, not wanting to fall into the trap laid by the taunts.

"With tits hanging out like that, half the castle probably wants to "date" all over her," Ginny scowled seconds after the portrait closed.

"I'd do her…" Seamus muttered as he kept tossing cards on the pile, his face flushing bright red as he realised what he said. "Date her! I mean I'd date her!" Quickly slamming another few cards on the pile, Seamus began to splutter when the deck exploded once more, engulfing him in a cloud of smoke, the laughter of the group ringing out as the smoke dissipated to reveal the Irishman's lack of eyebrows, a distinct scent of burnt hair in the room.

"How about we just don't talk about Malfoy or Lavender, and just hang out?" Hermione shook her head, still laughing softly at Seamus's luck. With a few muttered replies and shrugs, the suggestion passed and the group settled back into easy banter, the boys back and forth with their cards, and Hermione quickly found herself wrapped up in conversation with Ginny as they debated the latest trends being displayed in _Witch Weekly_.

It was moments like these when she started to think that maybe things would be normal again.

* * *

Dinner had been over for hours before Hermione finally made her way back through the portrait that guarded the Head's dormitory. Her cheeks ached from how much she had laughed and smiled through the day, and there was a feeling in her chest that she could only describe as hope. Hope for the present, hope for the future, hope that they could all be normal. It was tinted with a level of sadness that Harry and Ron weren't there with her, her missing best friend and now boyfriend definitely obvious.

"Evening, Malfoy," she greeted as she spotted the blonde male haunched over the desk, and the smile slowly faded from her lips as she inspected him. She wasn't even sure if he'd moved all day, not recalling seeing that telltale head at lunch, or dinner. He was still pouring over books, the right sleeve of his shirt rolled up to expose a forearm corded with muscle, the left sleeve still down, a few ink stains now on the cuff. Her brow furrowed as she watched him, realising that he would have the sleeve down to keep the Dark Mark on his forearm covered, and she was reminded of Lavender's words. How many students believed him to be a Death Eater still?

Her heart sank as she realised that it would have to be the vast majority. She wasn't even sure if she herself didn't believe it, although she knew that he was never truly willing to be part of Voldemort's cause. That much was confirmed as fact after Malfoy's trail at the Wizengamot, being cleared of all charges after testifying under the influence of veritaserum. Very few knew what had been included, herself among them as one who had testified at his trial, speaking to the events of the night at the manor. Her eyes flicked down to her own forearm, reminded of the word that Bellatrix had carved into her skin, but the memories didn't last long, knowledge instead of the intricate ink she'd had laid over it reminding her that she had control. Shaking her head a few times to clear it, she didn't realise that Malfoy had been speaking to her until her eyes met his piercing grey gaze.

"Granger," his voice was rough, as if he hadn't used it for a few days, and he was looking at her expectantly. A blush blossomed over Hermione's cheeks as she realised that she'd completely missed everything he'd said, the first time they'd even conversed since getting back to Hogwarts.

"I'm so sorry, I missed… everything you said," the blush burned bright on her cheeks as she forced herself to admit that, resolved to be polite and make things as easy as possible, deciding to give him the same chance that McGonagall clearly was.

"I asked if you wanted to go over a schedule for the Prefect's, and work out patrol routes." Leaning back in his chair, a trademark smirk found it's way to Draco Malfoy's face. He folded his arms over his chest, ankles crossed as he took in the flustered witch standing in front of him. If he was surprised at her blush, he didn't mention it.

What had surprised him though, was how surprisingly civil Hermione had been. As soon as the heavy badge had fallen into his hand over summer, he had known that she would be the other recipient, it was just common sense, and the range of emotions that had passed through him ranged from pride at being recognised for his achievements and knowledge that he got it off of his own merits, to pure fear that he would be paired with Gryffindor's princess, a woman who probably wanted him dead after what had happened in Malfoy Manor not long enough ago.

He hadn't been back to the Manor since that night. His father was in Azkaban, and he had moved into a small townhouse in muggle London with his mother. They both knew that no one would ever think to look for them there, and that it was their best chance to stay safe with the Malfoy reputation in tatters. The Malfoy fortune had been seized, accounts closed at Gringott's as part of the investigation against his father. He himself had been cleared after undertaking veritaserum, his young age at the time of taking the Mark helping sway the opinion of those judging him. His mother had been fined a considerable amount but escaped Azkaban, Harry Potter himself testifying to what she had done in the forest during the Final Battle. Though he wouldn't often willingly admit it, he was grateful to the Boy Who Lived for that.

Even Hermione was trying, the daily greetings polite, and she had been considerate of giving him his space. It didn't hurt that she never looked at him with disgust or pity, though he knew she had every right to after what he let happen in the drawing room. He didn't know why he spoke to her tonight, or what prompted him to even hint at working _with_ her. It didn't seem like she expected it either, the blush creeping down her neck as she spoke, and it took a few minutes for Draco to realise that he hadn't heard a word she said, too busy watching the red disappear under the neckline of her top. He wasn't as willing to admit that he tuned out as she was though, instead opting for his trademark smirk and swagger.

"Sounds good, Granger."

Hermione let out a sigh of relief before muttering about going to bed, quickly disappearing up the short flight of stairs to her room. Turning back to the potions books spread on his desk, Draco let out his own sigh, not really sure what he just agreed to.


	7. Chapter 6

_I own nothing but the plot. And to those who reviewed, I thank you._

* * *

**October 17****th****, 1998**

"_Wait," said Bellatrix sharply. "All except… except for the Mudblood."_

_Greyback gave a grunt of pleasure. _

"_No!" shouted Ron. "You can have me, keep me!"_

_Bellatrix hit him across the face; the blow echoed around the room. _

"_If she dies under questioning, I'll take you next," she said. "Blood traitor is next to Mudblood in my book. Take them downstairs, Greyback, and make sure they are secure, but do nothing more to them – yet." _

_She threw Greyback's wand back to him, then took a short silver knife from under her robes. She cut Hermione free from other prisoners, then dragged her by the hair into the middle of the room while Greyback forced the rest of them to shuffle across to another door and into a dark passageway. _

_Hermione trembled, pure, undulating fear rolling through her as she was forced to her knees on the drawing room floor, looking up with wide eyes as Bellatrix advanced upon her, knife held out. Hermione screamed as the blade was dug into her forearm, blood welling before spilling across her skin. _

"_I'm going to ask you again! Where did you get this sword? Where?" Bellatrix was livid, sparks emanating from her wand, the witch dragging the blade down Hermione's arm once more, drawing more blood as she carved at her. _

"_We found it – we found it – PLEASE!" Hermione screamed._

"_You are lying, filthy Mudblood, and I know it! You have been inside my vault at Gringotts! Tell the truth, tell the truth!" spit flew from Bellatrix's lips, hair wild, knife dragging deeper, the silver blade disappearing into red. Hermione screamed worse than ever, falling onto her back on the floor, Bellatrix wasting no time in straddling her, knife slashing again. _

"_What else did you take? What else have you got? Tell me the truth or I, I swear, I shall run you through with this knife!"_

"_Please…" Hermione sobbed, writhing as she tried to escape, pleading._

"_What else did you take, what else? ANSWER ME! CRUCIO!"_

_Hermione's screams echoed off the walls as she convulsed, blinding pain ripping through her as the Unforgivable hit her. _

"_How did you get into my vault? Bellatrix screamed. "Did that dirty little goblin in the cellar help you?"_

"_We only met him tonight!" Hermione sobbed. "We've never been inside your vault… it isn't the real sword! It's a copy, just a copy!"_

"_A copy? Screeched Bellatrix. "Oh, a likely story!"_

"_But we can find out easily!" came Lucius's voice. "Draco, fetch the goblin, he can tell us whether the sword is real or not!"_

Draco Malfoy bolted upright, his chest heaving as he gasped for air. The nightmare lingered with him, memories replaying when he slept, leaving him on edge. The emerald sheets of his bed fell to his waist, his bare chest drenched with sweat. Reaching up, he ran his fingers through his tousled blonde hair, jaw working as he clenched and relaxed. His throat felt sore, and he knew he'd been yelling in his sleep, screaming the words that he never previously uttered.

Slumping back into the pillows, he let out a frustrated grunt before allowing himself to succumb to slumber once more.

* * *

"I'm so glad to see you!" Hermione cried out as she wrapped Harry in a tight hug. The Boy Who Lived had been waiting for her at the gates to the grounds, having somehow got word about the first Hogsmede trip of the year.

"Missed you too, Hermione," Harry gripped her tight, hugging his best friend tight. He had definitely missed her, and Ginny, but he didn't regret not going back to school. Even now, he couldn't bring himself to walk through the gates, or to see the castle. After everything in the war, he didn't think he would ever be able to set foot past the front doors. Giving Hermione another squeeze, he muttered softly into her hair, "Ron's waiting in Hogsmede already."

Nodding, Hermione reluctantly released Harry from her tight embrace, only for Ginny to take over, the redhead throwing herself at him. Giving a soft laugh, Harry spun the younger witch a few times before setting her down, lacing his fingers through hers and throwing his other arm around Hermione's shoulders, content to escort the two women into the village.

Hermione barely listened to the chatters as the pair caught up, too busy focussing on the fluttering in her stomach that started when she realised that Ron was waiting. They hadn't really spoken much since term started, an owl here or there but nothing beyond pleasantries. If she was honest with herself, this wasn't what she had ever expected from a relationship, but they were meant to be together. Everything over the years had built to this, it was just the timing that was poor.

The trio made their way into the warmth of the Three Broomsticks, Harry guiding them through the crowded pub. Hermione was pulled from her thoughts when Harry nudged her side gently. Blinking a few times, Hermione stumbled over her own feet but was caught quickly by a pair of strong arms. Tilting her head to look up, she caught sight of the freckled face of her boyfriend

"Falling for me again huh, 'Mione?" Ron grinned at her, leaning down to press a sloppy kiss to her lips. Letting it go for a few moments, Hermione shifted her hands to his chest and pushed gently, her cheeks flaming with a blush from the public intimacy.

"Ron, not here…" Hermione tried to step away, blushing deeper as Ron's hands wandered along her body, sliding down to cup her ass, groping through her casual jeans.

"Oh loosen up 'Mione," Ron groused, but he did guide her into a chair, quickly taking the seat next to her, his arm draped possessively around her shoulders. Harry and Ginny took the seats opposite them, four butterbeers quickly appearing on the table between them. Reaching for her drink, Hermione took a sip and let the soothing, warm liquid fill her as she listened to the chatter back and forth, Harry and Ron filling them in on their recent adventures – renovating Grimmauld place – and Ginny rambled about school, classes and general gossip. She chimed in now and then with her own additions until the conversation turned to the upcoming quidditch match. Gryffindor were playing Slytherin to start off the season, and it would be Ginny's debut as captain.

"… Malfoy seems to be training a lot, though Hermione would know better since she shares a dorm with him," Ginny mused, the male name that fell from her lips ripping Hermione back to reality. She hadn't put in any of her letters who she shared the Head dormitory with, and by the sharp grip Ron now had on her shoulder and the complete silence around the table, she knew she'd been right to leave that information out.

"I'm sorry, what?" Ron's voice was low and deadly, ire evident in his tone. "You're sharing a room with _who_?"

"I don't share a room with him per-say… just the common room," Hermione shifted uncomfortably, her gaze locked on her almost empty tankard of butterbeer.

"You share. With a Death Eater," Ron was furious, his volume slowly raising, hand gripping Hermione's shoulder tight as he shifted to look at her. Ginny for her part was sitting back sheepishly, having realised that she put her foot well and truly in it this time, and Harry sat surprisingly quiet, though there was a pensive look upon his face.

"He wasn't charged as a Death Eater and honestly we barely bother each other. He sits and studies or is out training, that's it. We've worked together a few times to make the rosters for the prefects and that's it! Honestly, Ron, it's **fine,**" Hermione shifted back in her chair, trying to put a bit of distance between herself and the volatile redhead. She wasn't sure why the first words out of her mouth were defending Malfoy, but she truly believed them, and believed that the blonde wasn't who they thought he was, at least not anymore. With the weight of the war lifted off of their shoulders, she was impressed by how dedicated to study he seemed to be, and he hadn't once mentioned blood status since they began sharing.

"Why are you defending him? HE'S A DEATH EATER!" Ron was shouting now, his hands coming down to grip Hermione's biceps roughly, shaking her slightly as he lost his temper.

"He was forced into it and cleared of charges! You were there! He's not a problem!" Hermione's voice trembled as Ron shook her, a flicker of fear in her brown eyes.

"STOP DEFENDING HIM! HE WAS THERE! HE TORTURED YOU!" Ron was on his feet, the attention of the whole pub on him.

"Ron, stop it. You're hurting me," Hermione tried to put some steel into her voice, pulling away again even as he gripped her arms. She didn't know if that phrase worked or it was just coincidence, but he released her, pushing himself back from the table and knocking his chair fully over.

"I can't believe you. I can't believe you're defending that scum. You're moving back into Gryffindor tower, I won't have you around Death Eaters," Ron had stopped yelling at least, not that he needed to as the entire pub remained silent, eyes locked on the spat. Storming off, Ron pushed a few younger students out of the way as he made his way to the steps at the back of the pub, stomping up the stairs, his footsteps heard along the floorboards until a distant door slam was heard.

Trembling, Hermione sank back into her seat and conversation slowly resumed around them. Ginny cast her an apologetic look as Harry leaned forwards, his larger hands coming to rest over one of hers.

"I can't say I'm happy about it either, after all the crap over the last few years but I trust that you know what you're doing and if you say he's fine… then he's fine. McGonagall wouldn't have let him into the castle if he was still dangerous. Just… promise me you'll be careful?" Harry's green eyes swam with worry, but he knew that if anyone could look after themselves, it was the witch in front of him. "I'll talk to Ron later, when he's had a chance to cool down. We're staying here for a couple of nights."

Hermione just nodded, not trusting herself to speak right now. Conversation slowly started to flow again between Harry and Ginny, the pair trying to draw her back into conversation, but she couldn't find herself getting into the mood anymore. Finishing off her drink, Hermione slowly stood from the table and pulled her jacket around herself.

"You two have fun… I think I'm going to go back to the castle, I've… I've got a lot of homework to do," Hermione mumbled, hating that she wasn't her usual, confident self, and hating that Ron had stolen her control with that outburst. Slipping from the pub, she bumped against Lavender Brown as the other witch entered, earning herself a wicked glare.

"Watch where you're going, Granger. Some of us have dates to go to," Lavender snarled, shoving against Hermione before pushing through into the crowded pub, disappearing from view, the top of her head appearing again a moment later, disappearing up the stairs to the rooms above.

Shaking her head, Hermione drew her cloak tighter around herself before making her way back to the castle. Her walk back was brisk, no one around to interrupt her, or no one who wanted to interrupt her. She barely noticed anyway, lost in her own thoughts as she trekked back based on memory alone, Ron's words about forbidding her to stay in the Head dormitory echoing in her mind. She barely registered as her feet carried her to the portrait guarding the common room, having made her way back to where she was meant to be.

She couldn't believe that he had tried to forbid her from doing anything, she was her own person, and not his property to boss around. She wouldn't stand for it, she wasn't just some helpless female. For all Ron went on about being a war hero, she was a war heroine and was just as heavily involved as the boys. Giving the password (astrum) she stepped through the portrait and into the welcoming warmth of the common room. Glancing around, she admired the neutral, warm tones, no house loyalties visible in the common area. A frustrated groan gathered her attention, and she turned towards the sound.

Malfoy was haunched over his desk, books and parchment strewn about, a small cauldron resting on it as vials of ingredients cluttered the surface. His shirtsleeves were still down to his wrists, though the top few buttons were undone. A small, silver knife rested against the desk amongst a pile of mangled sopophorous beans.

"You should try crushing it with the flat of your blade, rather than cutting…" Hermione didn't know why she was giving him this advice, she didn't even know what potion he was making. None of their recent homework required sopophorous beans, or brewing after class.

Blinking a few times, Malfoy looked up at her, a surprised look crossing his face before he pulled a fresh bean closer, gripping his knife before doing as she suggested, laying the flat of the blade against the bean and pushing down with his palm. His eyes widened as the bean resisted before bursting, crushing after the blade and releasing a gush of liquid.

"Thanks, Granger," he scooped up the bean and it's juice, pouring the lot into the slowly bubbling potion, grabbing a quill a moment later to scrawl down the successful method. Pushing back from the desk, he stood and stretched, turning a moment later to look properly at the witch. Frowning, he noticed the dishevelled state of her clothing, and a sad look in her chocolate brown eyes. "Are you okay, Granger?"

Hermione didn't answer, the concern in his voice enough to push her over the edge, tears welling in her eyes. Turning on her heel, she ran up the stairs, disappearing into her room before the tears could spill out, leaving Malfoy standing alone.


	8. Chapter 7

_I own nothing but the plot._

* * *

**October 30****th****, 1998 **

There was a flurry of activity in the Great Hall as hundreds of owls swooped in through the open upper window. Making their way through, owls dropped mail on the intended targets, delivering letters from home, packages and parcels. Without thinking, Hermione shifted her glass of juice just in time, a soft thud sounding as the morning copy of the _Prophet_ landed in front of her. Finishing off her toast, she unfolded the paper and was about to start reading when a second letter landed on her now empty plate. Furrowing her brow, she placed the paper down and picked up the letter, dropping the red envelope a few seconds later when it started to smoulder. Reaching down to grab her book bag, Hermione rummaged as she searched for her wand, trying to get to it before her time ran out, but luck was not on her side, the smouldering letter tearing open, a booming voice echoing through the hall as the Howler let rip.

"I THOUGHT WE WENT OVER THIS ALREADY. I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU'VE IGNORED WHAT WE AGREED ON. I FORBID YOU TO SPEND ANOTHER MINUTE IN THAT ROOM," Ron Weasley's voice boomed through the Great Hall. "YOU WILL MOVE BACK TO GRYFFINDOR TOWER AT ONCE. DON'T MAKE ME HAVE TO COME UP THERE AND SORT THINGS OUT!"

Hermione sank down and tried to disappear as the rant continued, the hall almost silent as everyone listened, trying to see who had received the Howler. A few titters broke out as they realised that it had been sent to the Head Girl, and whispers started when they realised that the voice yelling out belonged to her long-time friend and short time boyfriend.

The Howler shredded itself seconds after finishing, silence engulfing the hall once more before conversation erupted out, still a few laughs and whispers here and there, but no lasting damage to anyone other than Hermione, and her ego. Neville reached over and awkwardly patted her on the shoulder. As the recipient of more than one howler himself from his grandmother, he knew a level of what she felt.

"It'll be alright, Hermione, everyone'll forget soon," he offered, not really sure what else to give her. She looked at him, mouth open as she was about to speak, but it was cut off quickly when a savage laugh trickled out across the table.

"You should do what you're told, Granger, it's the best way to keep your man happy," Lavender snickered, shooting the brunette a taunting smirk from where she was sitting, head close to Parvarti, the pair busy gossiping through breakfast as normal.

Hermione didn't say a word, instead she snatched up her book bag, swinging it over her shoulder as she stormed out of the hall. She didn't see the form rise from another table, didn't see the tall, well built male as he stalked through the hall, robes sweeping behind him in a fashion that would have made Severus Snape proud. She didn't see the grey eyes narrow in a deathly glare towards the gossiping Gryffindors, nor see the sneer on the Slytherin Prince's face when he made eye contact with Lavender Brown.

She did however, feel the strong hand grip her elbow as she made her way up the first few stairs, shoulders shaking as tears threatened to spill down her cheeks. The grip wasn't enough to hurt, just enough to stop her in her tracks, her heart skipping a beat as she turned, all words dying on her lips as she realised the hand belonged to Draco Malfoy, the sneer on his face melting away almost instantly into something that she could only describe as concern in his expression, but she wasn't sure what that look in his eyes was.

"Granger, are you okay?" even his tone was laced with concern. She didn't know why he was talking to her now, and neither did he. Both just knew that over the last few weeks they'd come to a truce, cool politeness having turned into a simple consideration for one another.

Hermione nodded without answering verbally, a single tear rolling down her cheek. Malfoy took another step closer, moving up the staircase until he was level with her, her position a few steps higher giving her a boost to match the tall Slytherin. His hand moved from her elbow, raising as he reached out with his thumb outstretched, brushing the tear away before it rolled too far down her cheek.

"You're better than him, Granger. You're better than this," Malfoy's voice was as soft as his thumb as he brushed away a second tear.

"I…" Hermione opened her mouth to reply, but was cut off when another voice rang out.

"Hermione? Are you okay?" Ginny Weasley tore from the doors to the Great Hall, hair whipping around as she looked from side to side, trying to figure out where Hermione had gone.

Hermione took a step backwards at the same time as Malfoy did, his hand dropping to his pocket. Clearing his throat, he levelled her with an intense look.

"We need to come up with a new prefect roster by the end of the weekend, Granger. I'll be awaiting your contribution," without waiting for a response, Malfoy shouldered his bag once more before shifting past her, moving up the stairs and heading towards his first class of the day.

Shaking her head to clear it, Hermione turned again, her heart still racing as she could still feel his thumb against her cheek, the touch having been surprisingly comforting.

"Yeah, Gin, I'm here, I'm fine," Hermione gave her friend a weak smile, waiting for her to meet her on the stairs before heading up towards class as well, listening to the tirade as Ginny called her brother every name under the sun for the howler.

* * *

Hermione yanked at her tie as she stormed through the portrait hole. Depositing her bag on her desk, she threw the red and gold tie aside before falling onto one of the plush couches with a groan. Her day had started awful with the howler and hadn't improved from there. Muttering expletives under her breath, she rolled the sleeves of her shirt up to her elbows, the usually crisp white fabric creased and untucked from her skirt. Reaching up, she rested a hand over her eyes, groaning again as she slumped back fully.

"Rough day, Granger?" Malfoy quirked a brow as he watched the frazzled witch collapse down, pushing away from his own desk and making his way over to the couch opposite her.

"Shut it, Malfoy," Hermione groused.

"Why do you put up with it?" he asked, leaning forwards and resting his elbows on his knees, watching the witch intently.

"You don't know what you're talking about," Hermione reluctantly opened one eye, her hands both moving up to run her fingers through her hair, inspecting the somehow still well-dressed man interrupting her quiet time.

"You'd be surprised – wait, Granger, is that a tattoo?" Malfoy tilted his head to the side as he watched Hermione's movements, the rolled sleeves of her shirt revealing her forearms. His hand shot out before she could react, his seeker reflexes on display as his fingers closed around her wrist, gently tugging her arm out and twisting it.

"I wanted something good," Hermione blushed, biting her bottom lip as her eyes fell to the pale fingers around her wrist, then to the vibrant phoenix inked on her forearm. The colourful piece had hurt more than she expected but was worth it to cover the scars underneath.

"This is traditional. You…" Malfoy frowned, inspecting the ink permanently placed upon her skin, his eyes widening a moment later, "it was…" he snapped his jaw shut, dropping her wrist.

"There's a patrol roster on the desk. Review it when you get a chance," standing abruptly, he raked his steely gaze over her before shaking his head, disappearing up the stairs to his dormitory, door slamming behind him moments later.

"If all men are like this I'm going to become a fucking lesbian honestly," staring after him, Hermione opened and closed her mouth a few times before slumping back into the cushions again with a frustrated groan.


	9. Chapter 8

_I own nothing but the plot._

* * *

**November 18****th****, 1998**

"Guy Fawkes Day was two weeks ago so please, _please_ put a stop to fireworks in corridors. Start taking points away if needed, but there's been that many spot fires in the last few days that it's beyond a joke," Hermione stood in front of the fireplace in the Head common room, addressing the gathered prefects currently taking up every available seat. Malfoy stood upon the other side of the room, perched upon his desk, the surface uncharacteristically clean for once, just a stack of parchments next to a pile of books.

"Give detentions if you need. Even the Baron is pissy with the state of things," Malfoy chimed in, his steel gaze meeting the eyes of every Slytherin prefect, each of them wincing at his words. It was a level of fear from the Slytherin prince, but a higher level knowing what their House ghost was like.

"Not to mention, Peeves is starting to get bright ideas," Hermione finished off, shaking her head slightly. Looking over the heads of the gathered prefects, she caught Malfoy's eye. "I think that's about everything for this month?"

"If you have any problems with your schedule, let us know. Have a good night," Malfoy nodded to Hermione, closing the meeting. He didn't make to move away from his perch as the prefects stood, chattering to themselves before leaving the two Heads alone.

"They respect you; you know?" Hermione hadn't moved either, though her head was titled to the side slightly as she raked her gaze over her male counterpart. Once again, he was still dressed as formally as ever, sleeves down, shirt tucked in and tie knotted. She was so used to spending time around the Gryffindor boys that she had honestly never seen anyone stay in proper uniform for the whole day, let alone after dinner, but he managed to do it every single day.

"They're afraid of me," Malfoy scoffed, pushing himself away from the desk, crossing swiftly through the common room until he stood before Hermione, towering over her. "You should be afraid of me."

Hermione swallowed as she looked up at him, her heart skipping a beat as he stepped close. She had never fully appreciated just how tall he was, towering an inch over even Ron's height. Rolling her eyes at his words, she took a half step back, trying to put some distance between them.

"Death Eater, remember?" Malfoy's voice was low, almost predatory. They had been getting closer over the last few weeks, spending more and more time together in the common room. He had to admit, she was starting to grow on him, and he didn't find her nearly as annoying as he once thought. Instead, he found himself admiring her study ethic, but he also found himself admiring her in general more and more.

"You were cleared of all charges," Hermione straightened at his words, almost as if a rod of steel had replaced her spine.

"Was I?" Malfoy took a step closer, his body almost pressing against hers. He was tensed, hands balled into tight fists. Hermione for her part didn't back down, and he was starting to admire that about her, too.

"Why did you do it?" Hermione's voice was soft. She had been at his trial and knew most of the details already, but she hadn't heard it from him without veritaserum forcing the words.

"I had to," was all Malfoy managed to get out, his body tensing further as he leaned towards the smaller witch. Gathering his senses a few heartbeats later, he took a few steps back, his eyes wide as he realised how close they'd been. Turning, he made for the couch by the hearth, falling into the cushions heavily. One of the other things he'd quickly learned about the Gryffindor witch was that she didn't give up on anything once she started, and this conversation was not likely to be different.

"Why?" Hermione prodded again, taking the steps needed to reach the other couch, settling herself on the edge of a cushion as she watched him, trying to calm her racing heart. She'd been wanting to ask him for days, weeks even, needing to know why he had done what he had, why he had played his part in the war. She needed to understand, in order to move forwards.

"When Voldemort comes knocking at your front door, you don't ask how high when he tells you to jump. You do what you have to, so you don't die," Malfoy leaned forwards, resting his elbows on his knees, tie hanging down between his parted legs as he watched Hermione. For her part, she didn't say a word, just letting him speak, letting him explain. "It's not a fucking choice."

"My Father… he believed that stuff. He was really behind it. He would do whatever Voldemort wanted, sell him whatever. All my Father ever wanted was to be the Dark Lord's second. He liked power," Malfoy sighed, his head dropping as he cradled it in his hands, fingers splayed out against his platinum blonde hair. "He craved power. Offering me to Voldemort for that stupid fucking task gave him even more power and stance. No one else had sold their offspring. Blaise, Theo… they scraped by. Crabbe and Goyle joined on their own, but they were idiots. Crabbe paid for it."

"Mother… my Mother is a good person though. She's not like him. She was just doing what she had to, to survive," Malfoy looked up sharply, his gaze locking on Hermione's, steely grey meeting chocolate brown. She was the first to blink, surprised at the conviction in his voice, and desperation. "Mother didn't deserve what he did to her. I tried to protect her, when I was old enough. I'd stand back up to him but it wasn't easy. He knew dark magic that would make an Unspeakable cringe."

"I'm sure she's lovely…" Hermione leaned back slightly, not sure what he was referring to, but she had a strong inkling that it couldn't be good.

"I was raised that way. In that house. It was all I knew. Mother tried when she could, to make sure I had more exposure to the world, but he was always so against it," Malfoy didn't tear his gaze from her, wanting to try and explain the conflict that had always ravaged his soul, and clouded his entire upbringing. The war had uprooted everything he had been raised to believe, whilst exemplifying everything he had ever seen. With his father now in Azkaban, they had finally had the chance to recover, and get help. He knew his mother was seeing a professional in Muggle London to deal with her marriage issues and was back in touch with his aunt Andromeda. "I wish I could claim imperius like so many others… it felt like that, y'know? With Father around… with Voldemort around… you do what you fucking have to."

"I'm sorry…" Hermione whispered, her voice breaking in time with her heart. She hadn't expected this to be his answer, far more intimate than what he had said at the trial. These were the things she didn't think he'd ever told anyone. Reaching out without thinking, she placed her palm gently over his one of his hands.

"Mother deserved more than he ever gave her. I'm glad he's getting the Kiss," Malfoy twisted his hand as Hermione's touched his, strong fingers gripping hers tight, but not enough to hurt. There was a haunted look in his eyes as he leaned forwards, eyes wide and searching her chocolate orbs for an answer she didn't have.

"I didn't know… Draco, I had no idea…" Hermione's voice was cracking, tears welling in her eyes as she understood what he wasn't telling her. She had no idea what it would have been like to grow up in that kind of environment, but she knew enough about family violence in the muggle world to know it would have been bad. Kids at her primary school had shown up occasionally with bruises or broken bones, and social services had gotten involved. As far as she was aware, the wizarding world didn't have anything like that, especially not one that served purebloods or those who knew dark magic. She couldn't even begin to imagine the kind of things that had happened to Malfoy when he was growing up.

The use of his first name on her lips ripped through Malfoy, bringing him back to his senses. It was almost as if a wall had suddenly slammed down, his eyes shuttering as he dropped her hand, rising to his feet abruptly.

"Goodnight, Granger," was all he uttered before quickly striding through the common room, disappearing up the steps to his room, door closing quietly behind him a few seconds later.

Hermione stayed where she was sitting, her hand still outstretched. She could still feel his calloused fingertips against hers, the warmth of his hand and firmness of her grip. Dropping her hand down, she let the tears slowly roll down her cheeks, weeping for a boy she never knew, but the man she was starting to see.


	10. Chapter 9

_I own nothing but the plot. _

_**Warning**. Minor violence ensues. _

* * *

**December 24****th****, 1998**

Celestina Warbeck's voice warbled out of the wireless resting on the mantle, mixing with the crackle of the fire burning in the hearth. The Christmas tree stood tall in the corner of the living room, branches laden with ornaments and tinsel, a few presents already scattered about under the tree. Mugs of cocoa rested on any surface they could. Molly and Arthur Weasley had long since retired to bed, leaving their children downstairs. Percy had also taken his leave, as had Bill and Fleur. Charlie was sprawled out across a loveseat, snoring quietly. George was busy stacking miniature wreaths upon his older brother's nose, trying to build the tallest tower that he could.

Harry Potter sat in one of the plush armchairs usually favoured by the Weasley patriarch, Ginny perched upon his lap. His arms were wrapped around her waist possessively, and her face was hidden by a curtain of hair as he whispered in her ear. The last couple sat on the only other loveseat, facing each other as their conversation grew steadily louder.

Hermione was curled up with her back against the corner of the armrest and backrest, a now empty mug clutched in her hands as she frowned at the redhead that she called her partner. Ron, for his part, took up most of the loveseat, his legs spread as he lounged, an aggravated expression slowly clouding his freckled face. A simple conversation about the last few weeks since they'd seen each other in Hogsmede had reached the same point of contention. Hermione's refusal to move back to the Gryffindor dormitory was losing Ron, his mind not able to wrap around or possibly comprehend why anyone, let alone someone as smart as her, would want to spend more than a second around someone like Malfoy.

"I just don't understand why you keep defending him. I heard what happened to you in his house!" Ron fumed, his arms folding over his chest as he made his points.

"You heard?" Hermione scoffed. "You heard. Seriously. I was there, Ronald. It happened to me. And it wasn't Malfoy who did it, it was Bellatrix. Not to mention that things from the war are a lot different to things at school."

"So it was his family! I heard, 'Mione! I heard what that Death Eater scum was doing!" Ron's voice was getting steadily louder, and the others in the living room were doing their best to act like they couldn't hear.

"It happened to **me**, Ronald. Not you. So I'll thank you not to use it against me. It's something that I've dealt with," Hermione's voice was icy, and her grip on the mug had tightened. "Draco Malfoy was a product of his environment and did what he had to do to survive. We all made questionable decisions during the war. It was _war._"

"He killed Dumbledore!" Ron leaned forwards, his ears starting to turn red as he argued with Hermione. "He's Death Eater scum!"

"Snape killed Dumbledore. And that was planned. We know this. We've seen the memories," Hermione shook her head, one hand releasing her mug to rub at her temple, a pounding headache starting to form behind her eye. It wasn't the first time that they'd had this argument in the four days that she'd been at the Burrow, and it was staring to wear on her. "The war is over, we're all different people."

"Why are you defending him!?" Ron exclaimed. "He's a Death Eater! HE'S SCUM!" He was outright yelling now, his temper getting the best of him as the red extended down his ears to his neck, turning his skin the same vibrant shade as his hair.

"Because he was forced into a life, sold to a mad man, and did what he had to do!" Hermione uncurled her legs and stood from the loveseat, wanting to put some distance between her and the irate man before her. "He was cleared of all charges, McGonagall and all the teachers believed it and were willing to accept him back into the castle, and I'm going to share a damn dormitory with him because I **earned** this damn badge!"

"HE'S A FUCKING DEATH EATER!" Ron couldn't contain himself, and he stood abruptly as Hermione stepped away from him. He wasn't willing to lose this fight, not when he was so sure that he was right. "I don't know why you've gotten it into your head that you can associate with scum like that, but since you abandoned me and Harry you've been out of order, 'Mione!"

There was a heartbeat of silence in the living room, even Charlie's snoring having ceased, the shouting voice of his brother having roused him from sleep. George was occupying himself with the wreathes scattered around, and Harry and Ginny sat still together, no longer talking. No one was comfortable with the argument unfolding before them, but none had any idea how to put a stop to it. Both parties were headstrong and stubborn, and Harry was well aware that this wasn't their first spat over their years of friendship.

"Since I abandoned you?" Hermione's jaw dropped open as the accusation struck her, dumbfounded that he would even use her return to Hogwarts like that. "Since I _abandoned_ you? I went back to school, Ronald. I went to finish my education."

"You left us, 'Mione," Ron was smug, realising that he'd gained the upper hand, and he took a few steps closer to his girlfriend, his tall frame dwarfing her petite form.

"I went back to school, Ronald," Hermione's voice was quiet now, danger lacing her tone as she took a step of her own, backing away from him. For some reason having her boyfriend approach her like that didn't set her heart racing in the same way it had when her new housemate had, and she didn't feel the same rush of warmth that had recently come from close encounters with the Slytherin. She didn't know why she felt that way around the castle and not with her own boyfriend, but it wasn't something that she was willing to dwell on now either. "I went back to school. I didn't throw a tantrum and walk out on my best friend, I didn't leave abandon those I care about while they were _on the fucking run,_ _in the middle of a fucking war." _

Her words pierced him, and Ron reacted before he could even think, his arm coming up and swinging, his open hand connecting with Hermione's face within seconds. Her head turned to the side as his palm connected, the slap of skin on skin loud in the room. Silence followed, even the Wireless seeming to have shut off. The silence continued for a few seconds until Ginny's gasp broke it, followed by the creak of furniture as the three other men in the room leapt to their feet. Hermione didn't make a sound, her own hand slowly coming up to touch her stinging cheek, the red handprint clearly visible against her otherwise pale complexion. Raising her head,a moment later, she looked at Ron with tears swimming in her chocolate brown eyes, a look of betrayal behind them. A crack echoed in the room like a gunshot as she turned, apparating away from the Burrow.

Ron's hand dropped limply to his side, chest heaving as he ground out her name, "'Mione…" but it was already too late, the witch having disappeared from his presence.

* * *

Draco Malfoy sat on the couch in front of the fireplace, a merry fire crackling away in the hearth and casting a warm glow upon the common room. An assortment of vials stood on the low coffee table in front of him, a mix of potions of his own making and antidotes for every poison he could possibly think of. A sheet of parchment was prepared next to the potions, each one numbered on the page, a self-inking quill ready to start marking notes on the reactions he had to each concoction. A small silver knife was resting next to the parchment for him to begin his experiments.

He took a deep breath, letting the fire scented air fill his lungs, chest expanding and contracting as he tried to relax himself before starting. He had been alone in the Head dormitory all week since the Head Girl had left to spend the holidays with her useless boyfriend and the boy wonder himself. It was the first time he'd really been alone since the fall of Voldemort, and he wasn't sure if he liked how it felt. He didn't miss the stares or speculation that followed him around, and he didn't miss the guards or whispers. The more he thought about it, the more he realised it was the muggleborn witch that he missed, her recent presence around him and their space a comfort.

Clenching and relaxing his fists a few times, he sighed before grabbing the neck of his simple t-shirt, tugging swiftly to pull it off, exposing his bare torso and the black ink on his left arm standing out in stark contrast to his otherwise pale skin. Reaching forwards, he grabbed the first potion and raised it to his lips, a grimace on his face as he caught the scent wafting from the vial.

The first drop of potion hit his lips as the portrait swung open, crashing against the wall with a bang loud enough to startle him, the vial slipping from his grip and falling to the carpeted floor, the fragile glass smashing. Looking down, he cursed softly before turning to the portrait to figure out what had happened. His eyes widened as he caught sight of the dishevelled Head Girl making her way in, her cheeks pink from the cold outside, a few sniffles escaping her. The wards had been put back up around the castle and if she'd make it here after going home, she had to have apparated to the village and walked back to school.

"Granger?" Malfoy rose to his feet as Hermione approached him, drawn to the warmth of the fire, and he saw the tears tracking down her cheeks. "Are you okay?"

"I…" Hermione didn't know what to say, or what to do. She had left the Burrow in a rush, apparating to different places in quick succession before she found herself in Hogsmede, the castle beckoning her home.

"Granger, what happened?" Malfoy took another step forwards, approaching the witch cautiously. His eyes narrowed as he took her in, the pink fading from her extremities with the warmth of the fire, though one cheek stayed a wicked shade of red, the shape looking suspiciously like – "Granger, is that a handprint?"

"He…" Hermione sniffled again, wrapping her arms around herself as she tried to control her shaking and tears. She hadn't fallen apart like this in months, not since she got back from Australia. Looking up, she took in the form of the taller man approaching her. He was broad and well built, but in a way that was far different from Ron. She didn't feel as trapped or intimidated as he approached, surprised by just how safe she felt with Draco Malfoy of all people. Her own eyes widened as she realised that he was shirtless.

"Granger, did Weasleby _**hit**_ you?" Malfoy's voice was low and lethal, and he was already starting to plan the ways to get back at the worthless Gryffindor. He felt a strange sense of protection towards Hermione, a level of affection that he wasn't aware had been building guiding his thoughts.

"It happened so quickly…" Hermione raised a hand to her eyes, wiping away her tears as she tried to control herself. Her eyes flicked towards Malfoy's bare left arm, unable to stop herself from trying to catch a glimpse of the Dark Mark that scarred him. A gasp escaped when she saw what was there instead, bold, black ink forming the shape of a dragon's tail, wrapped around his forearm and ending at his wrist, the back claws of the artistic beast shredding the faded mark underneath. Her eyes lifted up his arm, amazed at the intricacy of the design, the dragon taking shape up his forearm and bicep, the head snarling on his shoulder.

"Granger, you deserve better than that imbecile," Malfoy's voice was still low as he took another half step closer to the smaller woman, his hand coming up to brush lightly against her marred cheek. He knew she was looking at the tattoo that he had sat through hours of agonising pain to get, and had spent hours making sure to keep hidden. His fingers lightly grazed over the mark on her cheek, soothing over it before his hand moved to cup her chin, tilting it up to make her look at him, his steel grey gaze locking on her watery chocolate orbs.

"Draco…" Hermione gasped, his first name falling from her as he came close. Her heart was pounding in her chest as his fingers reached for her, the touch of his hand more comforting than she ever thought it would be, tingles running through her body from the proximity of him.

Rising up, Hermione stood on her toes to be closer, her arms suddenly coming up to link her hands behind his neck, fingers toying with the soft strands of platinum hair at the base of his neck, her new grip helping to tug his head down, her lips connecting with hers.

A gasp escaped her again as their lips touched, electricity shooting through her body and settling in her core, her eyes widening as they stayed locked with grey. Malfoy froze at the sudden contact, his brain taking a few seconds to catch up to what was happening. Taking another half step closer, he pressed his body against hers, free hand coming to rest on her hip as he pulled her in close, lips moving against hers as the kiss intensified, teeth nipping and tugging, tongues chasing and dancing.

Neither knew how long they were locked in each other's embrace, both forgoing the need to breathe as they familiarised themselves with each other, Malfoy's tongue sweeping through her mouth to explore and claim, Hermione's teeth tugging at his bottom lip every time he looked like pulling away.

The fire popped, bringing both into reality with the sudden noise, both taking jarring steps backwards, breaking the passionate kiss. Malfoy stumbled as he moved back, hitting the couch and tipping over the back of it, Hermione tripping over the coffee table herself, causing every vial upon it to rattle and knock together.

"I…" Hermione tried to stop the squeak in her voice as she raked her brain for something to say.

"Granger…" Malfoy's own voice was unsteady, his whole body trembling as he tried to wrap his mind around what they just did, and why his loose sleep pants suddenly felt tight in a certain area.

"I need to go to bed!" Hermione squeaked again, knocking a few more vials on the coffee table as she bumped into it, rushing towards her room and disappearing up the stairs before anything else happened.

"Goodnight…" Malfoy's voice was quiet, knowing she couldn't hear him after the door to her room closed. Taking a few deep breaths to calm himself, he looked at the mess on the table. Deciding that it was too much to clean tonight, he left the potions where they were, standing and storming off to his own room, needing to sort himself out. "Fuck me."


	11. Chapter 10

_I own nothing but the plot._

* * *

**January 6****th****, 1999**

There was a hushed silence in the library, occasional whispers breaking out as students put their heads together to speak in undertones, wary eyes glancing around to make sure they weren't caught out by the prowling librarian. Hermione was one of the few students in the entire school who wasn't afraid of Madam Pince, years spent sequestered in the stacks and countless books checked in and out having fostered a wary alliance between the two. It was the main reason that Hermione felt so safe in the library and had taken to spending the majority of her time there when she wasn't in classes. She wasn't hiding from anyone, or so she kept trying to convince herself. Some days it worked, but most it didn't. If she was honest, she was definitely hiding from the Head Boy, struggling to sort out her feelings around the blonde Slytherin and what he meant to her, the heated kiss they had shared on Christmas Eve giving her new levels of confusion and occasional anxiety.

She was struggling with her feelings surrounding Ron as well, their last argument having reached a level that it never had before. She had never known him to be capable of turning to physical violence, at least not against her. Sure, he had a temper, but before the war that had been the extent of it. The war had changed a lot in them all though, and his fuse was shorter than ever before. It was hard for her to tell since she hadn't been around him much since the school year had started, but she didn't think that he was dealing too well with what had happened in the final battle. All the Weasley's were struggling with Fred's death, not to mention the other atrocities that had occurred. Returning to school was helping her deal and process with things, but he didn't have that, and she didn't know if he, or even Harry, were doing anything to help themselves heal.

Giving a sigh, she reached forwards to one of the sheets of parchment on her claimed table, pulling it in front of herself as another thought came to her. Re-inking her quill, she moved the nib to the parchment and scratched the letters she needed, another con about Ron making its way onto the list she'd started. Ever since she was a little girl, Hermione needed control, and needed to control her decisions. From that, her desire for lists had been born and she had them for everything. Lists and charts dictated so many major decisions in her life and to her, this was no reason not to fall back to her comforting way of decision making. The pros and cons of Ronald Weasley had made their way onto ink and parchment, a similar list next on the back of the sheet, listing the pros and cons of Draco Malfoy. She was disappointed in the length of cons she'd found for both men and didn't even know what to make of the way the pros were almost all skewed in Malfoy's favour.

Besides loyalty, the only thing she'd managed to find for Ron was his persistence, but that was starting to look more like a con. He had sent her chocolates every day since Christmas, each heart shaped box scrawled with the phrase "I'm sorry" on it. She knew he felt bad for what had happened, but she also wanted him to feel bad. What he had done wasn't acceptable in her book, no matter how stressed or upset he was, or how much he was struggling with things after the war. They were all struggling, but that was no reason to raise a hand like that.

"'Mione?" Hermione was startled out of her thoughts by the voice of the man she had just been thinking about, quickly dragging her essay back on top of the list she had started to make sure it was out of sight. Glancing around, she looked in the area around her to find out where the voice was coming from, tamping down her disappointment that the voice belonged to a redhead, not a blonde.

* * *

"'Mione?" Draco Malfoy whipped his head up from the potions book he'd been pouring over as he heard a grating male voice, one that he knew all too well as belonging to the youngest male Weasel.

"'Mione?" Ron called again, earning a glare from Madam Pince as his voice broke the quietness of the literary sanctuary.

Malfoy felt his jaw clench, a tick forming in his cheek as he slammed his potions book shut. He was worn out and on edge, not to mention frustrated. Granger had been avoiding him since Christmas, and he was starting to miss the witch more and more, and was growing increasingly frustrated at her successful attempts to avoid him. He didn't know what to make of the kiss yet, but he wanted to at least talk it out with her if she'd give him the chance. Getting that chance didn't seem on the cards though, at least not in the near future. The presence of the Weasel though was just what he needed to vent.

He didn't know what had driven the Gryffindor buffoon to strike Granger, but he didn't even care. For all his faults, that was one thing that Malfoy wouldn't stand for, especially after witnessing how his Father had treated Mother all his life, and the violence that had ensued at Lucius Malfoy's hand. Leaving the book where it was, Malfoy rose to his feet and stepped around the bookshelves, prowling towards the bumbling idiot.

"'Mione!" Ron turned as he heard footsteps behind him, sighing in relief before he saw who was in front of him, a scowl marring his face. "What do you want, Death Eater?"

Malfoy didn't even care to draw his wand, his fingers closing as he made a fist, drawing his arm back only to thrust it forwards, delivering a blistering punch to Ron's scowling, freckled face. While he was against violence perpetrated against women by their partners, he had no such issue with making sure that Weasel felt something similar, as long as it came from him. Ron doubled over with a pained groan, his hands coming to his face as blood gushed out of his now clearly broken nose. Malfoy stood over him, fist still raised, adrenaline pumping through his veins, blood pounding in his ears. It took him a moment to register that the name being screeched was his, head turning a moment later to see who it was, a guilty look crossing his face.

"MR MALFOY!" Professor McGonagall shouted, aghast at what she had just witnessed. "My office, RIGHT NOW!" She was livid, pointing out of the library. Malfoy dropped his fist, straightening his school tie with his other hand to make sure that he still looked presentable as he stalked out of the library, knocking into Weasley on purpose as he strode purposefully towards the Headmistress's office.

* * *

Hermione shoved her books and parchments into her back, hastily packing everything away as she heard her hated nickname again, followed by some scuffles and McGonagall's furious voice calling the name of the other source of her internal conflict.

"Ron?" Hermione called out as she stepped between the shelves, her eyes widening as she saw the doubled over redhead, eyes drawn to the blood dripping through her fingers. "Jesus Christ! What happened?!" She rushed over, wand out a she quickly vanished the blood, wincing as more continued to pour from his clearly broken nose.

"Dat bloody deaf eaber!" Ron's words were thick, but she understood him well enough to know what he was saying.

"Stand still, let me fix it," Hermione's spine straightened as she took on a far more clinical stance, a few muttered spells coming from her as she moved her wand, Ron's grunts of pain mixing with the occasional click of bone as she reset and healed his nose.

"That scumbag! Fucking attacked me!" Ron's voice wasn't nearly as thick now, though blood still covered the bottom half of his face.

"Not here!" Hermione hissed, grabbing his hand, dragging the now healed visitor out of the library and away from the approaching Madam Pince, the librarian at her wit's end with the volume in her precious space.

"Mr Malfoy, what on _Earth_ were you _thinking_?" McGonagall fumed. She hadn't even sat down yet, currently standing behind her desk, hands planted on the surface. The portraits of former Headmasters and Headmistresses snoozed behind her, though the two most recent additions were alert and listening. Malfoy for his part stood in front of the wooden desk, the adrenaline starting to fade from his system, acutely aware of the growing throb in his hand. He knew Weasley was hardheaded, but he hadn't considered that in a literal sense, and two of his fingers definitely felt misplaced. Muggle boxing wasn't a sport he had bothered to learn or show interest in, and though he knew enough about muggle ways of duelling, it wasn't something he took up that often and it showed.

"I tripped," Malfoy kept his eyes forwards, gaze not fixing on anything. He could feel the stares of two portraits, the one of his Godfather listening with a scowl, the other with the former Headmaster that he had been tasked to kill listening with a familiar twinkle in his eyes.

"You tripped? Do you seriously expect me to believe that you tripped, fist first, into Mr Weasley's face, Mr Malfoy?" McGonagall stared at him, incredulously.

"I tripped," Malfoy repeated the statement, his eyes flicking to the portraits against his better judgement, scowl forming as he swear Dumbledore started to smile.

"Never in all my years have I seen a **Head Boy** assault a former student!" McGonagall was furious. She had spent a long time going over Wizengamot transcripts and consulting with the remainder of the staff as well as taking advice from the portraits of her predecessors to accept the troubled Slytherin back into the school, and in a position of authority at that.

"I'm not apologising. He had it coming," Malfoy felt compelled to justify himself, and clarify that he wasn't going to apologise to the git. No, it was deserved after he had raised a hand to Granger.

"Had it… HE HAD IT COMING!?" McGonagall spluttered before resorting to shouting, a few other portraits grumpily waking.

Malfoy just nodded, keeping is arms at his sides as the throbbing in his hand intensified, bracing himself for the storm that was about to be thrown his way.

* * *

"I didn't mean to, 'Mione, I swear! I just… snapped," Ron pleaded with Hermione, the blood now cleaned from his face as they sat together in an alcove.

"Then you need to figure out a better way to control yourself, Ronald," Hermione shook her head, arms folded over her chest. She wasn't in the mood to fight, and by no means was ready to just forgive and forget, but he had come to the castle, and just had his nose broken. Part of her was pleased that he had been dealt the blow, but she would never admit that out loud out – she barely wanted to admit it to herself.

"I will, I will. It was just… you made me snap," He pleaded again, pulling out his best puppy expression. He was drowning in guilt over what happened on Christmas Eve, and needed her to forgive him.

"I didn't **make **you do anything, Ronald. You need to figure out a better method of dealing with emotions," Hermione sighed, reaching up to rub her temple. It had been a long day, and her confused thoughts and feelings weren't leading her anywhere good right now.

"Look, I'm sorry. Can't you just forgive me, and we can move on? I'm staying at the Three Broomsticks, why don't you come back with me, we can spend some time together," Ron was getting frustrated. He just needed her to forgive him so they could go back to normal. Once things were normal, he'd be fine. It was the wrong thing to say however, Hermione rising to her feet and taking a few steps out of the alcove.

"No, Ronald. Not this time. What you did wasn't okay," Hermione took a few more steps away, still rubbing her temple.

"So what, you're dumping me?" Ron stood as well, his brow furrowed as he tried to work out why she was acting like this. "Wait, are you on… is it… y'know, _that time_?"

"Oh for the love of – **no**, Ronald, I am not menstruating. I'm not dumping you, either. I'm not ready to forgive you, but I'm not dumping you. Get some help. Find a better way to deal, I'll speak with you in a few days," Hermione was done, not in the mood to entertain this any longer.

"It was Malfoy's fault anyway, 'Mione! He's scum!" Ron tried one last tactic, unable to comprehend that she wasn't folding to him.

"This is about **us**, Ronald, not Malfoy! Stop brining him into everything! Yes, he was a jerk to us, but we were just as bad to him!" Hermione shook her head again, turning away from him. "I'm going back to my dormitory, and I'll speak to you in a few days. Get some help, Ronald."

"'Mione!" Ron called out to her disappearing back, completely confused as to why she didn't just accept his apology. Muttering under his breath about women, he shoved his hands in his pockets and trekked back through the castle, slipping out of the front doors to go back to the Three Broomsticks for the night, a blonde Gryffindor witch sneaking out of the castle a few minutes after him.

* * *

Draco Malfoy sat on the low couch before the crackling fire in the hearth, his tie thrown over the coffee table, the first few buttons of his shirt undone now, sleeves of his white oxford rolled to his elbows, exposing the ink on his left hand. His right hand was bruising, but the bones had been reset, some rudimentary healing magic having fixed it as best as he could. He turned his attention away from the flames as the portrait opened, hoping to God that the Gryffindor witch was still in one piece.

Hermione opened and closed her mouth as the portrait closed behind her, not sure what to say. She didn't agree with what Malfoy had done at all, but part of her still felt gratitude towards him for standing up for her.

"… thank you," Hermione spoke softly, her gaze taking in the rather dishevelled man on the couch. "Did you get in much trouble?"

"Detention every Saturday for the rest of the term," Malfoy shrugged, turning his attention back to the burning embers.

"I'm sorry," Hermione was still speaking softly, and her heart sank to know that he was being punished for defending her honour.

"I'm not. I'd do it again," Malfoy didn't bother to look at her, those words the last ones he felt like saying at the moment, disappearing back into his thoughts. Hermione didn't give a response either, giving him a lingering, sad look before making her way through the common room. She only paused near him long enough to lean down, pressing a thankful kiss to his cheek before moving again, going to the stairs to her room, disappearing up them a moment later.

Waiting until he heard the door to her bedroom close softly, Malfoy raised his hand to his cheek, still feeling her lips against his skin.


	12. Chapter 11

_I own nothing but the plot. _

_To those who favourite, I thank you. To those who follow, I thank you. To those who review, I thank you. From the bottom of my heart, it means more than you know._

* * *

**February 14****th****, 1999**

Draco Malfoy wasn't used to being ignored, and it was starting to frustrate him more and more. There had been a cold silence between himself and the Head Girl in the last few weeks, their tentative friendship reduced back to curt greetings here and there. He had tried a few times to speak with her, sucking up his pride enough to try and approach her, but he had been stonewalled ever since. It was starting to frustrate him, and he didn't know if it was because he was being ignored, or because he genuinely missed the Gryffindor know-it-all.

His feelings towards the witch had become a distraction as well, and he found himself struggling to focus in the classes that he shared with her, and the space between them was too large, and too small at the same time. Over the years his feelings towards her had changed and fluctuated, from hatred in first year to pure loathing in third year, to what he could only describe as teenage lust in fourth year. He had spent more time than he cared to admit fantasising about her after the Yule Ball that year. Those feelings faded away in fifth year as he grew closer to Pansy, and by sixth year he had disregarded the witch completely, consumed with trying to survive as his father sold him to a mad man he didn't actually believe in.

He had been shocked during his trial when she stood to defend him, her testimony a huge part in his exoneration. Malfoy never expected to get the opportunity to thank her, until McGonagall delivered a letter to his doorstep, welcoming him back to Hogwarts. Even that had set him on edge though, knowing that Granger would have been the recipient of the Head Girl badge. Just because she had testified that he didn't do anything to harm her when she was at the Manor, that didn't mean she didn't blame him for what happened. Her civility when they were housed together had taken him off guard, but it was enough to encourage him to try to reach out. He didn't expect that he would ever end up developing actual feelings for her, but here he was, and it was frustrating the hell out of him.

Grunting as a glimmer of gold flashed by his head, he turned his body, broom moving under him with ease as he took chase after the snitch, trying to forget the conflicting feelings embroiled within him through the one thing he had always worked hard to prove he was worth.

* * *

Hermione checked herself out in the mirror again, twisting and turning her body from side to side as she tried to make sure that everything looked perfect. Ron had actually suggested going out together for Valentine's Day, and whilst she wasn't really the kind of girl to be interested in or all caught up in a market holiday – besides that brief fascination with Gilderoy Lockhart in second year – but it wasn't every day that Ron actually suggested doing something, and she could tell that he was making an effort, and that was something. It was more than something, actually. In all the years she'd known him, this was the first time that she'd witnessed him actually try.

She had been quite icy with him since Christmas, and that coolness had extended to Malfoy after the library incident. She felt a little bad some days for freezing both men, but at the same time she also felt like it was completely justified. She was still pissed at Ron for raising a hand to her, and pissed at Malfoy for responding in kind with violence against Ron. She couldn't deny that a small part of her was pleased that Malfoy had defended her though, the action not something that she had ever though someone would do for her. Sure, she had her boys, but they were a bit clueless most of the time.

A thundering knock on the bathroom door startled her back to reality, and Hermione yanked it open, a blush rising on her cheek. She had been locked in there for hours, and hadn't even considered the other user of the facilities until the knock.

"I'm done," Hermione kept her tone cool, but she couldn't help but bite her lip as she took in the from in front of her.

Malfoy's chest was rising and falling, an emerald t-shirt snugly fitting his torso, highlighting the fact that he was quite well built and more than a little bit muscular. Years of quidditch and God knows what else had paid off for him. Dragging her eyes up from his chest, Hermione took in his face, the Slytherin's cheeks flushed as well, though it was more with exertion from his morning on the pitch as opposed to the fluster that always overtook her. His hair was dishevelled and a little damp, and she found herself aching to reach up to run her fingers through it. She wasn't usually a fan of anything sweaty but here she was, overcome by the urge to touch him, feel him, taste him. The blush deepened as she realised that taste had suddenly come up, her mind flicking between tasting his lips against hers again, or licking along other parts of him, her eyes dropping down to his waist.

Catching herself again, Hermione quickly pushed past the solid man, his body barely moving as she knocked into him, needing to get out before she was late. Her escape was stopped when a hand wrapped around her wrist, causing her to pause as the blonde turned towards her.

"Granger," his voice was hoarse, almost as if he had barely spoken for days – and it was true. Beyond answering a few questions in class, and barking orders to the prefects, he hadn't spoken a word to anyone.

"Malfoy, I have a date. Let go, I'm going to be late," Hermione tugged at her wrist. He wasn't hurting her by any means, but the longer his skin touched hers, the more her heart started to race, and the more she started to question her emotions. The things she felt around Draco Malfoy were all the things that she wished she'd felt around Ron – the tingles, the sparks, the butterflies and electricity behind every touch, the passion in every word and interaction, the excitement and thrill. All those things that she had grown up associating with relationships and matters of the heart, things that she just expected to feel with Ron. All she ever got around the lanky redhead was comfort and occasional bursts of irritation, things that she associated more with… a sibling love, something that she felt with Harry as well. She hoped that it would change and felt almost obliged to let things play out. Ron felt something for her, and it was like they'd been expected to get together after the war, for the happy ending to play out.

"You're better than him, Granger," Malfoy's words were blunt, but he was tired of all the dancing around that had been going on, the avoidance and tension every time they were in the same space. His head was clearer after the morning spent training, the new bruises he gained from the bludgers that he'd set free helping him work out a lot of his frustration, leaving only determination to sort things out, and as far as he was concerned, the Gryffindor witch was worth more than the Weasel. He didn't think he was what she deserved either, but he figured it was at least worth a try to figure out what the fuck was going on between them.

"Malfoy…" Hermione's voice was soft, her eyes softening at his words.

"I'm serious, Granger," Malfoy met her chocolate orbs with his own grey gaze, stepping closer until his body was pressed against hers. She didn't flinch or back away, and he took that as his cue, hand releasing her wrist to instead dance his fingers up her arm, nudging the sleeve of her blouse up further to brush over the bold phoenix inked on her skin, covering the raised ridges. His touch was gentle, though his look was piercing, trying to see through to her soul, trying to make her believe his words, his intentions.

"Draco…" she had dropped to a whisper. Part of her knew that she should pull away, that Ron was waiting for her, but the currently louder part of her wanted to stay, to see where things went. Her body was reacting to him in ways that she'd never experienced with her long term friend, her nerve endings all on fire as she felt him everywhere, and then he was against her, his wind chapped lips pressing against hers, the kiss not deep, but not chaste either.

The pair stood together, locked in an embrace. Her arms wrapped around him, one hand finally coming up to tangle in his hair, fingers brushing through the damp locks, not caring at all about the sweat. He had grown his hair out a bit this year and let the slicked back look go, and she loved the feel of his soft platinum strands, a contrast to the scratch of his stubble against her cheek as their heads moved, lips parting and tongues coming out to duel. It was nothing like the tentative, mostly sloppy kisses she shared with Ron, instead there was a passion and firmness from both, complimenting each other and driving the heat she felt pooling in her core.

"… there, Hermione?" Ginny Weasley's voice floated through the closed portrait, and both young adults became aware of the knocking they'd been tuning out. Breaking the kiss, both breathed heavily but didn't pull away, eyes searching and trying to find answers. Hermione blushed as Malfoy shifted and she felt something hard against her, not sure if she was grateful or disappointed that their height difference meant it pressed at her lower abdomen, just a few inches above the heat she thought had to be radiating from between her thighs. Releasing her grip on his hair, she quickly stepped back, tugging at her blouse to straighten it, eyes flicking to the portrait, knowing Ginny was waiting to walk to Hogsmede with her, Harry and Ron both waiting in the village for them.

"I… shit, I need to go," Hermione stumbled over her words a bit, stepping back away from Malfoy.

"We're not done here, Granger," Malfoy's chest was heaving again as he tried to catch his breath, his tongue flicking out to run over his bottom lip as he checked out the petite witch. She didn't give him a verbal response, just nodded a few times before stumbling towards the portrait, disappearing from his sight.

Hermione cast a longing glance over her shoulder before the portrait closed, her head turning to try and listen to Ginny as the younger witch looped their arms together, giving a few nods and answers here and there, trying to act completely normal to her best female friend, a bubble of guilt forming in her chest as she remembered that she was meant to be on a date with the other woman's brother, and she was starting to wonder if happy endings were all they're cracked up to be.


	13. Chapter 12

_I own nothing but the plot._

_Warning. Adult Language. Dark themes._

* * *

**March 18****th****, 1998**

The wind was rushing around him, and he felt weightless. Draco Malfoy loved his early morning ritual, his extra quidditch training. He didn't care that there was no team with him at this hour, all he cared about was the wind, the broom, and the freedom it offered him. There was a sense of calmness that always filled him when he was on the pitch, and he was even starting to enjoy the biting chill of the crisp mornings against his bare arms. He had started to forgo his quidditch robes when not playing or training properly, a t-shirt and loose sweats his new favourite outfit, the attire something he had discovered over the summer, living in muggle London with his mother in their townhouse, off the magical radar.

He felt his stomach in his throat as he directed his broom, plummeting down to the ground in a steep dive. Clenching his knees around the broom, he carefully released his grip with his hands, one extending out as his stiff fingers reached for the glittering, golden snitch hovering a foot off the mud laden ground. The blood was rushing in his ears as he rolled upside down, trying out a new move, his hair windswept and tousled, fingers finally closing around the snitch. The thrill of pride at capturing the difficult ball filled his chest, his heart racing.

Malfoy was seconds away from landing when he realised that the sounds he was hearing wasn't just the blood rushing through his veins, or the birds chirping in the nearby forest. No, what he was hearing was screams, the likes of which he hadn't heard since the final battle. Turning his body, he swiftly turned his broom, shooting towards the castle, towards the screams, urging the broom on faster, a spike of pure fear running through him. It didn't take him long to find the group of fourth year girls clustered in one of the courtyards, their screams and points all directed up towards the top of the astronomy tower. A figure could be seen on the rampart, still too high for him to clearly make out beyond a mop of mousy brown hair, shrouded in black school robes.

"Shit," Draco muttered under his breath, turning his gaze down to the girls he was now hovering just above, "GO GET MCGONAGALL!" he yelled, making sure they could hear him, needing at least one to get over their hysteria to go and alert the Headmistress, "NOW, GO!" He didn't wait to see if they were doing as he told, directing his broom higher, shooting towards the top of the tower.

* * *

"Hermione! _Hermione!"_Ginny's frantic voice rang out, stopping the Head Girl in her tracks. She was on her way to the library to start drawing up her exam revision table, the library having become her sanctuary most mornings before class, and before lunch on the weekends. It wasn't that she was hiding, she just didn't think she could handle seeing Malfoy come back to their shared dorm every morning after his practice, the sight of the blonde still stirring up a mix of emotions and feelings inside of her.

"What's up, Gin?" Hermione turned to her, the smile fading from her lips when she noticed the terrified look on the 6th year's face.

"I can't find McGonagall, no one saw him after class, I don't know why we didn't look harder, we just thought was doing homework, oh my God I should have looked, I can't believe we didn't look, he's at the astronomy tower, oh my God," Ginny blurted out, her face flushed after her run to find someone, _anyone_.

"Gin, woah, Gin, calm down. Who's at the tower? What's going on?" Hermione frowned, reaching out and resting her hands on the redhead's shoulders, trying to ground her a bit.

"Dennis, he's on the top of the tower, oh my God Hermione please you have to stop him!" Ginny was frantic, tears rolling down her cheeks.

"He's… what? Oh God," Hermione almost moaned as she realised what was going on, whirling away from Ginny without a second glance, sprinting towards the astronomy tower, not caring if the other witch was following her or not.

* * *

"Don't come any closer!" Dennis Creevey croaked, his tear stained eyes locked on the Slytherin hovering ten feet away from him, his wand raised, digging firmly under his own chin.

Draco cursed again but stayed where he was, his plan to swoop on the younger boy thwarted. His sweatpants had twisted under him slightly in his haste, the pocket twisted awkwardly under his leg, trapping his wand out of easy reach, and he wasn't willing to risk that the Gryffindor wouldn't do something stupid in the time it took him to get it free. Dozens of plans and ideas ran through is brain, each one more ridiculous than the last as he tried to come up with a solution. A relieved sigh was all that eventually escaped as the trapdoor was lifted, slamming against the bricks, a bushy head appearing.

Hermione's face was bright red and she was completely out of breath having sprinted through the castle and up countless stairs.

"Dennis! You don't have to do this!" even her voice was breathless, chest heaving as she took a few steps towards the young Gryffindor, legs trembling.

Dennis flinched as Hermione approached him, his feet shuffling on the rampart, getting closer to the edge.

"Stay back!" Dennis's voice cracked again, tears streaming down his cheeks, his free hand coming up to yank at his school tie, tugging the red and golden scrap of fabric until it came free, tossing it aside, watching the bold Gryffindor colours float down to the gathering crowd hundreds of feet below.

"Dennis, what would Colin think?" Hermione took another step closer, her hand outstretched.

"Colin is DEAD!" Dennis screamed the last word, "HE'S DEAD! This school was supposed to be SAFE!" he shuffled forwards again, his toes edging off the rampart.

Draco cursed again, edging a few feet closer. He wasn't close enough to grab the boy yet.

"HE SHOULD HAVE BEEN 17 TODAY!" Dennis didn't care that he was screaming. He didn't care about anything anymore. The war had destroyed his entire family. His parents hadn't coped with the loss of their oldest son to a world that they never knew before him, arguments and fights ensuing as they struggled to keep up the ruse that he had ran away and died of a drug overdose. It was the only story that had been able to make sense in the muggle world, the one that they had been instructed on by the Ministry of Magic after the final battle. They had to tell those who knew the family something, but it had started to paint Colin as a truant, as a delinquent. His parents had argued, and divorced not long after, now barely speaking to each other. Neither wanted him to return to school this year, and his mother thought he had moved in with his father; his father thought he was still living with his mother.

"They took EVERYTHING! Those STUPID FUCKING COINS burned, and HE CAME RUNNING! WE ALL CAME FUCKING RUNNING! AND THEY TOOK EVERYTHING!" Dennis shifted again, tears streaming down his cheeks, toes passed the rampart.

Draco shared a look with Hermione, the witch trying to keep her own sobs quiet, tears rolling down her face as well. She looked completely lost, and it fractured something in Draco's chest.

"I get it," Draco's voice cut through the screams, even and full of a level of empathy that caught both Gryffindor's off guard. "I get it, Creevey, I really do. Dennis. I get it. It fucking sucks," Draco edged closer, taking advantage of the boy's shock to narrow the gap between them.

"It hurts. It hurts and it won't fucking stop hurting, and some days you probably can't get out of bed, because it doesn't feel worth it anymore," Draco continued, his piercing silver gaze locked firmly on the teenager. "It was a war, and we were fucking kids, and it's been taken from us. We had to grow up, and now we have to grow up with shadows and fears and nightmares."

Dennis shifted on his feet, but didn't move any closer to the edge, the hand holding his wand starting to tremble.

"We all did things, saw things, and have to live with the pain of it, and it fucking sucks," Draco shifted on his broom, taking advantage of the trembling wand and now closed eyes of the teenager to change his position, his hands letting go of the handle, putting to use a skill he had only started practicing, but something he knew Potter had managed to pull off years before. Pushing himself to stand, he kept his arms outstretched for balance on his broom, not daring to look down, and not wanting to look away from the Gryffindor boy either. "We've been forced into this shit place, and it hurts every time you breath sometimes, doesn't it? It's like you're drowning. Drowning in this fucking shitstorm of a life we now have to live, having to go on like it's all fucking normal again. Like no one is looking, with disgust, or pity, or fear or hatred. Like we weren't all forced to see things we didn't want, to do things we didn't want to. Forget unforgivable curses, how do we forgive ourselves?"

Hermione raised a hand to her mouth, forcing back a sob as she listened to Draco, his words completely raw and honest. She felt a firm hand on her shoulder, McGonagall having appeared behind her, the Headmistress not making a sound yet. Far below on the ground, Slughorn was trying to get the large crowd to push back, Flitwick already working his magic, cushioning the ground in case things went wrong.

"I get it, Dennis. I fucking get it. It hurts, and it feels impossible to keep moving forwards. And I don't doubt that it's a hundred times worse for you because now you have to move forwards alone, and you didn't deserve that, no one does. But there's no choice anymore, because we're what's left behind, and now we have to take this world and make it ours. They put us through a war, and stole our innocence, and now it's up to us to make it a better place. It's up to us to make sure it doesn't happen again."

Dennis's hand trembled, his wand lowering a fraction of an inch as sobs shook his body, and Draco took that as his cue. Edging towards the handle of his broom, he prayed that it wouldn't tip, that he wouldn't slip, balancing himself on the very end before making the leap. His body sailed through the air, suspended in space for a heartbeat with nothing stopping him plummeting to the Earth so very, very far below. His arms reached out before wrapping around the teenage boy, pulling him into a bear hug as he tackled him off of the ramparts, the pair tumbling to the ground.

Draco's entire body ached with the collision, his teeth rattling as his head knocked against the bricks. Stars flashed behind his eyes and his heart pounded in his chest, but he didn't care, not knowing that he had the boy safe in his grip.

"We need people like you, Dennis, to stand up and say what happened, and what went on. We need people like you to lead the change. We'll get you some help. I promise. Things will get better, I promise. It won't be today, it won't be tomorrow, it probably won't even be next year. But one day, I swear to you, it will be better," Draco whispered roughly against the sobbing boy's ear, knowing it had been heard as Dennis's fingers dug at his t-shirt, stretching the fabric as he clung to the Head Boy.

He didn't know how long they were on the ground for before McGonagall rushed forwards, tugging both boys to their feet. Draco didn't release his grip yet, letting Dennis sob against his chest, but he did lock eyes with the Head Girl. They had no words for each other, and both just nodded. A few minutes passed again before McGonagall guided Dennis from Draco's strong grip, Madam Pomfrey having reached the tower as well, the mediwitch bustling in and taking over instantly, fussing over the distraught boy before whisking him away, no doubt to the hospital wing.

"Well done, Mr Malfoy. Just… well done. Get that head looked at soon, please," McGonagall nodded to Draco before shooting Hermione a glance, "make sure he checks out." Without another word, the Headmistress swept back to the stairs, following the mediwitch, needing to ensure the safety and wellbeing of Dennis.

Draco blinked, suddenly aware of a throbbing pain in the back of his head. Reaching up, he gingerly touched the base of his skull, hand coming away sticky with blood. Frowning as he inspected his fingers, he missed the Head Girl approaching him, his names on her lips the last thing he heard before his eyes rolled back into his head and he crashed to the ground.

"_Draco!"_

* * *

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	14. Chapter 13

_I own nothing but the plot._

_Warning. Mature themes._

* * *

**March 24****th****, 1999**

"Woah, woah, easy!" Hermione dropped the stack of books onto the end of the bed, her hands pressing to the shoulders of the still unusually pale Head Boy, pushing him back down to the pillows as he tried to sit upright.

Draco just scowled at the witch, resisting her pushes before surrendering, slumping back into the pillows. He was sick of the hospital wing, feeling trapped and confined within the ward. He had been there for a week now after the incident on the top of the astronomy tower. He had slept for the first couple of days, and then spoken a fair bit to the Creevey boy. He had been relocated yesterday though, sent to St Mungo's for further assessment. Before leaving, he'd slipped a card into his bag, the name of a squib who had trained at a muggle university. Draco had spent some time speaking to the therapist before returning to school, encouraged by his mother's improvement after getting her own help. He was surprised by how well the muggles dealt with things without magic and was in half a mind to try and implement the same things into the magical world one day, if he could get the right backing.

"It's customary to bring snacks, not homework, Granger," Draco scowled at the witch, shifting one leg to make sure his foot didn't get crushed by the mound of books she had dumped on his bed.

"Looks like you've got enough of those already," Hermione blushed and gestured to the laden bedside table, chocolate frogs and Bertie Bott's every flavour beans covering the surface, a stack of cards discarded next to them from a surprising amount of well-wishers. In typical Hogwarts fashion, what had happened on top of the tower was mostly a secret, so naturally the whole school knew. More than a few girls had started sending cards of admiration after his dive to the tower, praising his heroism. He had grown tired of them quickly, but was amused at the look on Hermione's face, one that almost resembled-

"Jealous, Granger?" he smirked, folding his arms over his chest as he settled with his back propped How are you feeling, anyway?"

"I'm fine," Draco didn't drop his smirk, watching the flustered witch. He had to admit, it was sweet that she was here. No one had come to visit him in the hospital wing in their earlier years besides Pansy, and she barely counted, the vapid wench too concerned with herself.

"Are you sure?" Hermione inspected him closely, not overly happy with the fact that he was almost the same colour as the white sheets on the bed. It was concerning, given that he was already ridiculously pale. "You lost a lot of blood… I've never seen someone bleed so much." Hermione bit her lip, chewing at it as she thought back to last week. She had tried to grab him when he fainted, but wasn't fast enough to stop his head knocking off the flagstone bricks again, the gash on his head widening as bloody poured out. She had tried all the quick healing spells she knew, every single one that she had used on either herself, Harry or Ron while they were on the run, but nothing had worked, his blood not clotting. In the end she had pressed her hands to the wound, and held it as she levitated him down the stairs, commandeering the first group of students she found to help get them to the hospital wing. Already Professor Slughorn had had to come by twice to replenish Madam Pomfrey's stock of blood replenishing potions, Malfoy having used up her stores.

"You get used to it, Granger," Draco watched her, feeling a twinge of guilt at the anguished look on her face.

"I spent some time in the library, researching," Hermione fidgeted with the sheets, "do you know if you have any genetic –"

"Haemophilia, Granger. A lot of purebloods have it," Draco shrugged. He had grown up knowing to be careful his whole life, learning quickly on that small cuts were bad for him. His Father, for all the abuse and beatings he had delivered, had been careful not to go to that line. Lucius Malfoy was a bastard, but not a fool – even he knew that Draco was the key to the name of Malfoy continuing.

"The Royal disease…" Hermione scrunched her nose as she realised that Draco's words meant that most of the purebloods had interbred at some point. "Wait, so that time in third year, with Buckbeak…"

"Mongrel beast," Draco huffed.

"You weren't actually faking that, were you?" realisation dawned on Hermione, thinking back to every incident over the last seven years, and all the times her and the other Gryffindor's had made fun of the Slytherin for making up. "Wait… and all the potions you've been working on?"

"I found out that muggles have a… treatment for it. I wanted to develop a cure, a twist on the blood replenishing potion," Draco shrugged self-consciously. He had never told her what he was working on every day in their common room, or what he planned on doing after school. Potions was one of the few things that he found he really excelled at and enjoyed. He was hoping to secure a traineeship to gain his own Mastery, and without Snape around he wanted to prove himself to the wider community. If this worked, it was his golden ticket into making a new name for himself.

"That's… that's incredible, Draco," Hermione's eyes widened as she considered the possibilities if he was successful, his words from the tower about reshaping the magical word ringing in her ears. Her feelings about the Slytherin were still jumbled and more than a little confusing to her and mixed constantly with guilt for what she was doing to Ron. She was supposed to be with Ron, that was the happy ending for after the war… but she was doubting that it was _her_ happy ending. The redhead frustrated her more than anything, whereas the blonde thumbing through an arithmancy book in front of her kept her intrigued. He was smarter than she had ever willingly admitted out loud, and the more she got to know him, the more she differenced this man from the stuck-up boy with a pointy chin from their first year. It didn't hurt that he was good looking either, and Hermione had to admit that she was trying hard not to jump his bones every time she saw him. She wouldn't deny that she was frustrated, a girl had needs after all.

Deciding to stop thinking for once, Hermione glanced around to make sure their section of the hospital wing was still empty. She could hear faint voices from Madam Pomfrey's office at the end of the ward, and she knew that someone was in there speaking to the mediwitch but they didn't seem to be a bother right now. Scooting her chair closer, Hermione reached out and placed a hand on the book in Draco's hands, pushing it down. She was met with a raised eyebrow and an amused smirk on the blonde's face. He didn't really know where she was going with this, but whatever she was doing was bound to be good. Her heart was pounding out of her chest as Hermione leaned in close, rising out of her chair slightly as she moved towards his face, her lips seconds away from brushing his when the door to the office opened, heels clicking against the marble floors as someone strode purposefully through the ward.

She didn't care though, completely focussed on the blonde, her lips meeting his in a searing kiss. It didn't take long for the action to deepen, tongues dancing and teasing. Without thinking, Hermione's hand rested on his chest, feeling the strong muscles as it dragged down his abdomen, fingertips creeping towards his waist. He wrapped one arm around her to pull her closer, his head tilting as he swept through her mouth with powerful strokes of his tongue, tasting and claiming the witch, a groan muffled as her fingers slipped under his waistband. The groan spurred Hermione on, suddenly feeling bolder than ever as her hand crept lower, fingers wrapping around a rather large appendage, her fingers unable to close around the thickness now enclosed in her hand, and she swore she could feel every beat of his heart throbbing against her palm.

"Draco!" both teens froze at the sound that reached them, his name coming from a female that was definitely not staff. Hermione had a niggling sense in the back of her head that she knew the voice, but it had a stronger reaction on Malfoy, his eyes widening as he pulled back suddenly from Hermione.

"Mother," he tried to stop his voice cracking, scrambling to grab a book to cover his lap, trying to hide the reaction that Hermione's wandering fingertips had caused. Hermione quickly whipped her hand out from under the sheets, throwing herself backwards to put some distance between them. She was aiming for the chair behind her but missed, her heel catching it as she instead crashed to the floor, her cheeks burning bright red, the blush extending down her chest, her uniform dishevelled as she looked up at the still astoundingly beautiful, aristocratic face of Narcissa Malfoy.


	15. Chapter 14

_I own nothing but the plot._

* * *

**April 13****th****, 1999**

"You've got to be kidding me," Hermione stared up at Draco, disbelief written upon her face. She had been happily chatting to the Gryffindor's that had remained over the Easter break, Ginny and Neville among them whilst eating her breakfast. McGonagall had given the 6th and 7th year students free reign to visit Hogsmede whenever they wanted throughout the break, her level of trust increased after the war as she understood that some days, those who had been involved would want, or even need to get away. It was there at the Gryffindor table, with a forkful of bacon halfway to her mouth, that Hermione found herself trying to process what was surely a joke.

"Do I look like I'm kidding, Granger? My mother is coming to Hogsmede for the day and has requested that I invite you to attend a luncheon," Draco's voice was flat, and he inspected the rowdy bunch at the table as he stood, his hands tucked into the pockets of his silver slacks.

"Even after…" Hermione glanced around, Neville catching her eye and wisely realising what she wanted, drawing the others back into conversation. "You know…" she lowered her voice, her hand shifting just enough to barley gesture at his waist. Her last interaction with the Malfoy matriarch had been embarrassing to say the least, having been caught with her hand literally down his pants. Her pride was as bruised as her ass after her hasty retreat, the humiliation and embarrassment still burning a bit when she thought about it. She'd been careful to avoid being alone with Draco after that, spending most of her time in the Gryffindor common room. It wasn't that her mixed feelings to the wizard had suddenly changed, no, she still felt as attracted to him and cared for him, but she wanted to avoid getting into that situation again. She was with Ron, it was the happily ever after, after all.

"She has requested to meet with you. If you are agreeable, I will be waiting in the Entrance Hall at 11am to escort you to Madam Puddifoot's," Draco's nose scrunched at the location. He hated the tea shop as Pansy had dragged him there for more than one Valentine's Day, but unfortunately his mother had attended school with Madam Puddifoot herself and preferred the ambiance to that of the Three Broomsticks.

"I'll let you know later," Hermione dismissed him with a blush on her cheeks, turning back to her housemates, effectively dismissing the Head Boy. Draco for his part simply shook his head, a rueful smirk on his face before he sauntered away, giving a nod to the Headmistress as he passed her on his way out of the Great Hall.

* * *

"You know, it's 10:30…" Ginny mused as she laid across the plush couch in the Head Dormitory, thumbing through the most recent issue of Witch Weekly.

"And?" Hermione didn't glance up from her own book, but she did raise it a bit to hide her face, hoping the redhead wouldn't pick up on the slight lift to her voice.

"And don't you have somewhere to be?" Ginny tossed the magazine onto the coffee table between them, fixing a pointed stare on the older witch.

"Like?" Hermione sank a bit lower into her armchair, hiding firmly behind her book.

"Hermione. You're my best female friend. I love you in a completely non lesbian way. And I know Ron's my brother but fuck me Hermione, you're smarter than him. And I'm not blind, I know there's something definitely going on between you and Malfoy. The sexual tension between you two is as thick as Hagrid's treacle," Ginny didn't care to beat around the bush, this was something that had been bugging her for a while. "Plus he does seem… different this year. I heard about what happened with Dennis, plus he's been quite civil. Sure he's still a snarky asshole sometimes but he's… maybe he was a product of his environment, you know? McGonagall saw something in him to let him back and frankly that, plus the fact that he's hot as fuck… How haven't you jumped him yet? Honestly I would if not for Harry. I know he invited you to lunch, do it. Take the date. Fuck it, Hermione. Be happy."

Hermione opened and closed her mouth a few times, not even sure what to say as Ginny continued.

"I… is this…" Hermione eventually found a few words, placing her book down on the coffee table, glancing down at her outfit.

"Absolutely not. Go get changed. Oh oh! The green dress. Do it. Be happy, Hermione," Ginny's eyes lit up as she realised that Hermione was starting to consider, shooing her up to her dorm to change. Hermione nodded before rising, rushing up the staircase without another word, only a worried glance at the clock.

Smiling to herself, Ginny reached for her magazine again, thumbing through the pages until she found the article she was last at. It wasn't that she didn't love Ron and want him to be happy, but even a blind man could tell that he wasn't a right fit for Hermione, no matter what he thought. And she wanted them both to be happy, and together wasn't the way. Personally, she felt like Hermione had been suffocating in the months following the final battle and hadn't started to come back to herself since returning to school. She barely smiled over the summer and laughed even less. Ron had been treating her like a possession almost, like she was his prize after the war, and as much as she loved her brother, she hated that mentality. She was grateful that Harry wasn't acting the same, because it's not something she'd stand for. She was surprised that Hermione had, but at the same time she understood why. There was always this silent pressure and assumption that the witch would end up with Ron, the same way it was assumed she'd end up with Harry – the main difference being that she loved the black haired boy more than anything, and he felt the same way, whereas Ron saw Hermione as his prize and she didn't even know what Hermione felt. She had no doubt she loved her brother as a friend, but that didn't always translate to romantic. That wasn't something she'd started to notice until they went back to school, until the Head Boy was announced, until they all let go of all grudges. The longer Ginny saw her friend spending time with Malfoy, the more she saw her smile.

Hearing footsteps coming down the stairs, Ginny tossed her magazine down and sat up to inspect the witch in front of her, her jaw dropping as she took in the outfit. An emerald green dress covered her form, highlighting the assets that the witch usually hid. The neckline was high and sleeves reached to her elbows, the cut of the dress form fitting to her waist where a black belt cinched it, skirt flaring out and falling to just below her knees. The phoenix inked on her forearm was visible, the bright, colourful creature boldly displaying the witch's commitment to magic, the image moving occasionally. Usually bushy brown hair was pulled up into a knot on top of the witch's head, a few tendrils falling to frame her face, a light brush of makeup on her face. Ginny was impressed by what she'd managed in twenty minutes, and was suddenly very glad that she'd talked the witch into purchasing the dress last time they went to Diagon Alley together.

"Okay, so, you're my best female friend and I love you in a lesbian way, Hermione," Ginny wolf whistled, eyes flicking down as she hoped that the usual school shoes had been cast off, impressed again at a pair of black kitten heels. "Now go!" Glancing at the clock, she shooed the witch away, smiling to herself.

Hermione stopped to lean down, pressing a grateful kiss to Ginny's cheek before leaving the common room, moving swiftly to make her way down to the Entrance Hall.

Leaning against a statue, Draco checked his watch. He didn't bother to look up as he heard heels clicking down the marble staircase.

"You're late," he looked up at last, the rest of his sentence fading on his lips as he took in the sight before him. "Did you plan this?" He quirked a brow, glancing down at his own emerald green button up shirt, then to her dress.

"No, I bloody well did not, and it's two minutes, you'll live," Hermione blushed, reaching the base of the staircase, crossing over to Malfoy. He just smirked at her, the look infuriating and arousing all at the same time. Neither of them spoke another word as they left the castle together, not touching or speaking as they made the short walk to the magical village, the silence comforting more than anything, both at ease with one another and not needing to fill the space with meaningless chatter. Hermione was grateful that she didn't need to open her mouth the closer they got to the high street, her breakfast threatening to make a reappearance as they got closer and closer to the tea shop, her last interaction with Draco's mother very clear in her mind.

Reaching the tea shop, Draco took a few steps in front of Hermione, opening the door for the witch. She raised an eyebrow and was about to make a retort to him about being able to open her own doors before it dawned on her that for all his upbringing had done, he was still a pureblood and traditional manners had likely been drilled into him since birth, especially if he knew his mother was around. Opting for a small smile, she just nodded at the blonde before stepping into the tea shop, breathing a relieved sigh when her eyes cast around, the cosy shopfront not nearly as pink or frilly as Harry had once described it to her. There was no denying that it was feminine, but it wasn't gaudy. If she was honest, she found it rather charming. A few tables were occupied with couples, some of them students of Hogwarts, a few of them older residents of the village and surrounds.

Stepping past a table that was empty but still laden with a tea service, Draco and Hermione approached the table that Narcissa Malfoy sat at. Pulling a chair out, Draco offered it to Hermione, and she cast him another small smile, sitting down. He stepped around to his mother, leaning down and pressing a kiss to her cheek before taking his own seat.

"Hello, Mother. Happy Easter," Draco's voice was soft, a tone Hermione hadn't heard from him before.

"Happy Easter, Mrs Malfoy, thank you for the invite," Hermione blushed and pressed her hands into her lap nervously, attempting to smile at the rather intimidating witch. She had quickly left the hospital wing last time they met and had never actually had a full conversation with her.

"Happy Easter, Draco, and thank you so much for agreeing to come, Miss Granger," Narcissa's voice was lighter than Hermione thought, and there was a warmth in the elder witch's eyes that she hadn't expected at all.

"Please, call me Hermione," Hermione fidgeted again, her nerves getting the better of her. Her eyes widened as she felt a larger hand suddenly press over hers, stilling the rapid movements of her fingers. Draco cast her a quick glance, squeezing her hand once before releasing.

"It's good to see you again, Mother," Draco said, not showing any other indication that he'd reached for the witch.

"I hope you're doing well in school, Draco. And you as well, Hermione. Draco tells me that you're an extremely bright young woman," Narcissa reached an empty tea cup, finding nothing there as Draco's manners quickly kicked in, the blonde immediately moving to serve tea to both his mother and Hermione, busying himself with the task. "And thank you, again, Hermione, for agreeing to come today. We did not get a chance to speak a few weeks ago when I was at the castle – I do apologise for cutting your visit with Draco short. I'm sure he appreciated your company." She cast a knowing smile at her son, who blushed for his part, his cheeks faintly pink as he placed the now full tea cup in front of his mother, another in front of Hermione.

"Oh, no, it's no problem at all Mrs Malfoy, you came far further to see him," Hermione blushed as well, her cheeks flaming brighter than Draco's, both her hands coming out to cradle her now full teacup. Lifting it to her lips, she took a sip, eyes widening as the hot liquid touched her tongue, just the right amount of sugar and cream already added. She had no idea when Draco had memorised the way she liked her drinks, but her heart skipped a beat at the simple action.

"Please, Hermione, call me Narcissa. I wanted to apologise to you formally for what happened at my previous home last year. What Bellatrix did to you was abhorrent and I cannot express my sorrow for it enough, nor can I express my gratitude completely for your testimony at the Wizengamot," Narcissa sipped at her own tea, her bright blue eyes fixed on the young woman. "It takes an incredibly strong woman to come through that, and still treat my son with the kindness that you have been this year."

"I…" Hermione opened and closed her mouth a few times, trying to swallow the lump that had formed in her throat. Looking down, she tried to focus on the tea swirling in her cup, a strong hand reaching under the table to gently squeeze her knee. Tilting her head back up, she gave Draco a thankful smile before turning her attention back to Narcissa Malfoy. "I cannot blame him, nor you, for what happened. Bellatrix… Bellatrix is responsible for her actions and I have come to terms with what she did." Raising her arm slightly, Hermione indicated at the bold phoenix inked over the scars, completely hiding the hideous word carved into her flesh. "Nor can I blame Draco for the way he was raised. We have… spoken about what it was like to live with his father. I believe after these last few months at school though, he takes after you far more than he'd like to admit. You raised a fine young man, Narcissa, and I am honoured to call him my friend." It was the first time she had ever actually called him anything like a friend, and Draco's hand gripped her knee tightly, his eyes widening.

Narcissa reached for a napkin, bringing it up to tenderly dab at her eyes as Hermione spoke, both women slipping into further conversation, Draco tuning out the second it turned to his formative years.

Looking up from his tea, Draco paused as he reached for a sandwich, his eyes widening and a devious smirk spreading across his face as he witnessed a very dishevelled Lavender Brown appear from the single occupancy bathroom at the back of the shop, trying her best to straighten her clothing as she made her way to the table just next to theirs, sinking into a seat without looking around. No matter how hard she tried though, it was hard to disguise the just-fucked air about her. Nudging Hermione with his leg, he pointed to the other girl.

Narcissa watched as a look of pure disdain crossed the young woman's face, leaning back into her seat to watch this interaction, curious to see how his son acted and behaved, even this action more relaxed than he usually was. Hermione Granger was bringing her son out of his shell, and she would be forever grateful to the witch for that alone regardless of what was going on between the pair. As far as she was aware from the news tabloids and information in the _Prophet_ over summer, the brunette was engaged in a relationship with the youngest Weasley boy and had been since the War ended. Raising an elegant eyebrow, Narcissa cast a quick glance to her son as the look on Hermione's face crossed from disdain to rage to hurt in quick succession, surprised to find an equally as dark look upon Draco's face. Turning her attention to what was capturing both young adults, she quickly catalogued the incident to analyse later.

"Ron!?" Hermione stood from her chair, almost knocking it over as Ron Weasley appeared from the bathroom, his shoulder length red hair a mess, the boy looking up from where he had been zipping his fly still. Ron's eyes widened as he saw Hermione sitting at the table, a look of horror and guilt crossing his face as he looked from her to Lavender and back again.

"'Mione! I can expla-" Ron cut himself off as he noticed that she was at a table with Malfoy and his mother, and clearly not a recent addition if the empty teacups and half eaten sandwich platter was anything to go by, the guilt fading quickly to burning anger. "Didn't I tell you to stop associating with Death Eater scum, 'Mione? I _**told you**_."

"You don't dictate who I speak to, Ronald," Hermione was trembling, not sure if it was from anger or hurt, glancing from Ron to Lavender, putting two and two together quickly, realisation dawning on her – the Gryffindor girl had been in and out of the castle all year on secret dates, and spending more than one night staying in the Three Broomsticks, and now it was starting to make sense – and making sense why Ron had stopped pressuring her into anything.

"You're my girlfriend, 'Mione, so yeah, I think I do get to lay down the rules, especially around scum like them," Ron stomped closer, his voice raising and silencing the others in the tea shop, everyone tuned into the beginning of what was promising to be an explosive row. Narcissa was shocked by what was unfolding, even more so when Draco rose from his own seat to stand behind Hermione, his hand resting gently against her lower back to let her know that he was there. The blonde had an inch or so of height on the redhead, his sleeves rolled to the elbows and exposing the tail of the black dragon inked on his forearm, covering the faded Dark Mark underneath and he still cut an imposing figure. Though she knew it wasn't the best time to think it, she couldn't help but notice the way the pair complimented each other.

"Am I, Ronald? Am I your girlfriend? Because if I am, you wouldn't be fucking someone else," Hermione seethed.

"Maybe if you put out, he wouldn't need to find someone better!" Lavender had stood as well, her chin tilted upwards in a huff, folding herself into Ron's side.

"Keep out of it, Brown," Hermione dismissed the witch, her ire fixed on Ron. Though she knew she had her own guilts especially around the kisses and brief touch she'd shared with the Slytherin, they hadn't crossed that final line. One that Ron it seemed had been crossing since their first weekend back at school.

"Don't speak to her like that! This is what happens when you associate with scum, 'Mione, you never used to be like this," Ron pushed Lavender away from him without ceremony, stepping up on Hermione, his fists balling at his sides. White hot rage was building inside of him, and he couldn't tell if it was directed at Hermione or Malfoy anymore. He hated that she was getting close to him, that she didn't see him as the Death Eater scum that he knew the Slytherin was. He hated that she had gone back to school instead of staying by his side, he hated that she wasn't letting him have her. He had fought in the War as well, didn't he deserve his prize? They were meant to be together, everyone expected it. He just needed her to realise it too, and then he could be happy. "If it's a problem I'll stop fucking her."

"If it's a problem? Are you kidding me?" Hermione was dumbfounded that Ron had actually said that, like he couldn't see that it was an issue. She missed the boy that she'd grown up with, but something had changed after the War and he wasn't dealing with it. Where Draco had softened and been working his way towards redeeming his name, and those like Dennis had slipped into depression, Ron had instead into a dark spiral of anger and rage, a spiral that he was losing control of. "We're done, Ronald. I've been trying to wait, to give us a chance, but we're not going to work. I deserve to be happy too."

"You're breaking up with me? YOU'RE MINE, 'MIONE, NOT HIS!" Ron was shouting now, disbelief mixing with his rage. He took a step closer to her, his hand raising without thinking about it. All he could see was red, unable to comprehend that she was breaking up with him after all they'd been through.

Hermione didn't even have a chance to blink before Draco had slipped in front of her, his wand out and suddenly under Ron's chin, a dangerous look on his face.

"Leave, right now, Weasley, before I do something that you'll regret," Draco hissed, close enough to see the flicker of fear suddenly in the redhead's eyes.

Ron blanched, stepping backwards quickly as he felt a burn against his chin, not willing to put it past the Slytherin to use an Unforgivable on him.

"Let's go, Lav, we don't associate with murders," Ron muttered, grabbing Lavender's hand, dragging her out of the hushed tea shop. The second the bell above the door tinkled, Draco tucked his wand back into his pocket, turning and gently pulling Hermione's trembling body against his chest, running a soothing hand down her back, just wanting to comfort her.

Though she knew it wasn't the time, Narcissa couldn't help the small smile that spread across her face as she watched her son, and a witch who was making him into a better man than she could have dreamed.


	16. Chapter 15

_I own nothing but the plot._

* * *

**May 2****nd****, 1999**

"Can you believe she still writes this trash?" Hermione fumed, throwing her morning copy of the _Prophet_ onto the desk in front of Draco, startling him awake.

Sitting up, he ran his sleeve over his mouth, wiping away a trickle of saliva from his chin. He'd been working on his potions project well into the night, and fallen asleep over his desk, a quill still crumpled in his fist. Turning his head to look at the irate witch, he decided it was too early to pick a fight with that look, instead opting to pull the paper closer, eyes scanning the headlines until they caught on the headline 'THE ANNIVERSARY: WHERE IS THE GOLDEN TRIO?'. Doing his best not to laugh, his eyes continued to scan the page, taking in the words printed there.

"Forsaken by the Boy Who Lived, mourners will be left with the dowdy 'brains' of the trio at this afternoon's memorial service at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, with the Chosen One opting to skip the proceedings, his strong, unwavering ally standing by his side," Draco snorted as he read out loud, skipping down to the end of the article that continued to wax on and off about how dull Hermione was, and how Potter had abandoned them all. "You're worked up over Rita Skeeter?"

"When she's publishing garbage, yes, I am! I never should have let her out of that damn jar," Hermione huffed, placing a napkin on the desk next, a stack of buttered toast resting upon it since she knew Draco had missed breakfast.

"What jar?" Draco quirked a brow, tossing the paper aside to grab the first slice of toast, chewing as he watched her.

"I caught her spying on Harry in the fourth year and caught the stupid bitch in a jar. In her animagus form, obviously," Hermione shrugged, still pissed off at the reporter.

"Is that why she stopped writing? She was quiet for like a year," Draco nearly dropped the toast in his hand, his mouth falling open. "Granger, how long did you keep her in the jar?"

"I let her out after six months! She just kept quiet for a while. So maybe I told her I'd come after her if she wrote her rubbish…" Hermione regretted ever letting her out now that she was going to have to find some way to explain why Harry wasn't going to be at the service later on. The Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, had already asked her to speak at the event. She had no issue with it, and had been working on a speech for a few days now, but she'd have to figure out a way to edit it to explain Harry and Ron. Harry wasn't ready to approach the castle, suffering from nightmares of the battle still, and she knew he still feared that all he would see would be the damage from that day. Ron… she wasn't sure why Ron had pulled out, but she was fairly certain it was because of her. He hadn't taken their breakup well, and even Lavender seemed to be getting sick of his complaining about her and Malfoy. The most blood prejudiced comments she'd heard of in the last few months had come from Ron and not even any of the Slytherin's, a fact that wasn't missed on her.

"Jesus Granger you are fucking terrifying," Draco just stared at the petite but rather lethal witch, "I'm starting to think I got off light that time you slapped me."

Rolling her eyes, Hermione threw a cushion from the couch at him before stalking off to her room, the laughter of the blonde following her all the way up the stairs.

* * *

"Stop fidgeting, Granger," Draco leaned down to whisper against the anxious witch's ear. For once she didn't have a retort, only nodding as she clasped her hands together in front of herself, her spine straightening as she stood with him at the front of the congregation from Hogwarts, the students gathered upon the lawns. As Head Boy and Girl, they led the pack, the Prefects lined up neatly a half step behind, the remainder of the students organised into rows, the houses split but still a sense of unity was felt amongst them. Glancing over his shoulder, Draco was reminded of the last time he ever saw them arranged this way, back in fourth year when the Triwizard Tournament was about to begin. His head turned back to the front as Kingsley Shacklebolt's voice drifted over the crowd, the Minister for Magic opening the service for students and mourners alike, members of the Order of the Phoenix, the friends and family of those who were lost, and hundreds of other witches and wizards who were impacted in some way by the War gathered at the school.

Draco tuned out most of what the Minister was saying instead busy searching the crowd seated nearby to try and spot a mousy brown head of hair. Dennis Creevey hadn't returned to school after the incident on the tower, instead having spent most of his time in St Mungo's. He had heard that the boy was going to be released to attend the memorial service though, and he felt a genuine level of concern to the boy, having felt similar himself in the weeks around his trial.

"… recipient of the Order of Merlin, First Class, Miss Hermione Granger," Kinglsey stepped to the side with a small amount of flourish, gesturing towards the gathered students and drawing everyone's attention to Hermione. There were a few flashes as the photographers from assorted papers snapped their images, reporters poised with Quick-Quotes Quills ready to go.

"Granger," drawn back to reality, Draco nudged at Hermione, whispering out of the corner of his mouth, knowing that every eye in the grounds was upon them, "that's you, move your ass."

Starting, Hermione glanced around with a look of absolute fear on her face, schooling her expression a few seconds later into steely determination. She wasn't one to shy away from things like public speaking or saying her piece, but the presence of reporters, Rita Skeeter's coiffed head visible in the front row and the absence of Harry and Ron was aiding to her nerves. She was grateful for Draco, but understood his hesitation to show any aspect of their building friendship in front of any form of media, and she appreciated his tact.

Picking her way through the crowd, Hermione drew her school robes tighter around herself, taking solace in the Gryffindor patch on her breast, and the Head Girl badge pinned just under it. She heard a few murmurs and whispers as she passed the crowds, smiles and nods from other members of the Order, hushed whispers and points from those who had heard of her but knew her as nothing more than the brains behind the Golden Trio. A silence fell over the crowd once more as she passed the marble wall of those who had been lost before she took the few steps to stand next to Kingsley, the Minister drawing her into a warm hug before ceding the makeshift podium to her.

Straightening up, Hermione drew herself to her full height, using her posture to make herself seem bigger than she was. Drawing her wand from her pocket, she pointed it to her throat and whispered a quiet "sonorus!"

"Thank you, Minister Shakelbolt," Hermione started, turning to smile at Kingsley before returning her attention to the crowd, making sure to look around them constantly, never just settling on one area, every person on the grounds listening to her. "Today we have come together, despite our ages, races, blood status. From Magical Creatures to students, to experienced and accomplished witches and wizards."

Hermione raised one hand, gesturing to the assorted groups gathered, from the students on the grass, the Order in the courtyard, friends, family and even the centaurs by the edge of the forest, mermen floating in the shallows of the lake.

"I could speak more about what the Minister has already touched on, the chance that we have to rebuild our society, or how things have progressed since Lord Voldemort fell in this very courtyard. But instead… instead I would like to offer you all a different perspective, one that seems to have been overlooked from time to time. Today, I wish to speak to you all as a young witch, a young woman, and a student," Hermione took a deep breath, her hand raising again to direct the attention of those listening to the marble wall. "Today I will honour those who fell. We remember them, and the sacrifices that they made. We remember with sadness in our hearts that those we called friends or family have left us. We remember Remus Lupin and Tonks – we all remember how she hated her first name – and we know that their young son, Teddy Lupin was left without his mother and father. We remember Severus Snape and the role that he played; his sacrifice greater than anyone thought in the moment. We mourn the loss of a bright and joyful soul in Fred Weasley, his laughter living on through every joke or prank to be played within these castle walls."

Hermione took a deep breath, noticing the tears flowing from a few of the gathered as they remembered those they lost, the Weasley family huddled together, Ginny with her classmates still, only Ron missing. She spotted Andromeda Tonks, young Teddy held in her arms, the toddler's hair flashing every colour of the rainbow thanks to the gift inherited from his mother.

"But I also want to remind you all of others who were lost. Today is for Colin Creevey, who's love and passion for photography was known by all who ever crossed his path," Hermione sought out Dennis in the crowd, giving the sobbing boy a sad smile. "Today is for Justin Finch Fletchley, a young man who could make anyone smile, his bubbly personality and outgoing nature sorely missed.

"Today is for Ernie McMillan, someone who embodied every trait that Helga Hufflepuff herself had admired, someone who was never afraid to speak his mind but still took his success and failures in good grace," her attention turned to the students, doing her best to lock eyes with every single student in turn, wanting them to know that no matter what, she had not forgotten their housemates, their friends. "Today is for Michael Corner, for Megan Jones, for Sally-Ann Perks and for Zacharias Smith."

"Today… today is for Millicent Bulstrode," Hermione took a deep breath as a few murmurs broke out as the surname was recognised, Draco's eyes widening as she spoke. "A young witch who stood up to her family and all she had been raised to know, in order to do what she thought was right. Today is for Vincent Crabbe, a teenage boy who was fooled into thinking he could control a spell that was far beyond his experience." Hermione turned back to look at the reporters, at the Order and at those who forgot what they all were.

"Today is for the Fallen Fifty, the fifty students who gave their lives to fight for what they thought was right. Today is for us to remember that fifty young lives were snuffed out on these grounds. Fifty teenagers. Fifty children. Fifty lives ended before they could begin. For we will never know if Colin would have been an award winning photographer. We will never see if Ernie would indeed rise to be the next Minister of Magic. We won't see what Millicent would create, her affinity for recipes better even than some of the house elves of Hogwarts. We will never know just how far up the Quidditch Leagues that Vincent would have risen," Hermione finally shifted her gaze to meet Draco's steel grey eyes, his shock evident on his face that she had included not only Slytherins, but knew more about them than what they ever showed.

"Because we were all children when this War broke out, and we were children when we rose to stand against it. But there was bravery, and loyalty, and when the call was put out, we were the children who came to fight for the future _that we deserve._ As Minister Shacklebolt has already said, repairs are underway to bring our society back together, but you would be doing a disservice to every young person standing here if you ignore what we have to offer. We have already proven that we will not be silenced, and that the loyalty and bravery of every single _**child**_ here is going to shape the future."

"Today, we honour those who have fallen, and we remember them every single day, we see their names every time we step out of these great doors. Today, we honour those who have returned to this castle, to the place where they saw their friends, housemates and classmates rise and fall, only to see them fail to rise again. We honour Neville Longbottom, who protected every classmate that he could whilst being tortured himself for an entire year. We honour Ginny Weasley, a girl of _just sixteen_ when she came face to face with Bellatrix Lestrange and stood her ground. We honour Theodore Nott who stood up to his parents and brought his house back to stand against what was wrong. We honour Draco Malfoy, who fought against a life he had been sold into. We honour Dennis Creevey, a young boy, barely just a teenager, who returned to the castle that his brother fell at, who returned to the common room that they sat in together, who saw the reminder of everything until he could see no more," Hermione straightened up again, her posture perfect as a steel tone crept into her voice. "I know that many of you have wondered why Harry Potter does not stand here and address you himself, I know that many of you would have seen the article in today's _Prophet_ and wondered if he has abandoned you all. You think of Harry Potter as the Chosen One, the Boy Who Lived, and forget that he was exactly that – _**a boy**_. For Harry, the sorrow and pain of this castle remains too much for him, and he has not been able to return. He may never return, but that is for him to decide when the time is right, because he must recover. We must all recover."

"We were children when our innocence was stolen, when we were subject to torture both physical and psychological, when we were cursed, damaged and broken. When some of us were killed, injured or maimed. We were children when we came to fight. When we came to stand. Soon, we will be the adults who don't back down, and we will shape the future of our world," Hermione took one last deep breath, doing her best to stop a waver from creeping in as she reached the last planned line of her speech, not looking anywhere but at Draco. "We can forgive one another, as we claw to forgive ourselves for what we did, for what we witnessed, for who we had to become. We have come here to honour those who have fallen; but do not dishonour those who remain. Do not forget that we will be the ones to shape this world, for it is not beyond redemption – and we will prove it."

Pointing her wand to her chin once more, Hermione silently cast the counterspell to return her voice to normal volume, her gaze sweeping around the grounds one last time before she turned, walking up the last few steps to pull open the heavy oak front door, slipping into the Entrance Hall without a glance back, ignoring the murmurs that were breaking out all over again as her words sunk in.


	17. Chapter 16

_I own nothing but the plot. _

* * *

**May 26****th****, 1999**

"OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR, MALFOY, I KNOW YOU'RE IN THERE!" Ginny Weasley pounded on the portrait frame, the disgruntled occupants shaking their fists at her. "Shut it, you," she groused at the portrait, fist hammering at the edge again.

Inside the Head Common Room, Hermione yawned as she made her way down the stairs from her bedroom, a scarlet silk robe wrapped around her body. Stifling a yawn, she wondered what the problem was. Ginny's thumping had roused her from sleep, and she had no clue what the redhead wanted at five in the morning.

"I SWAER TO FUCKING CHRIST OPEN THIS FUCKING DOOR RIGHT NOW!" Ginny's voice floated through again, followed by the sounds of more thumping. Hermione was almost glad that the password had changed last night since that was the only thing that had stopped Ginny from storming in.

"What's her problem?" Draco gave a yawn of his own as he made his way down the last few stairs, a pair of loose sleep pants the only thing he wore, the black ink dragon that covered his arm and shoulder clearly visible. Hermione swallowed as she took him in, imagining running her fingers through his tousled blonde hair, imagining what it would be like to kiss her way down his rather toned chest and abdomen. "I know, Granger, I'm irresistible, but the she-weasel is ruining my morning," he smirked, knowing full well that the brunette witch had been shamelessly checking him out.

Blushing bright red, Hermione tore her gaze from the wizard, doing her best to distract herself by answering Ginny. Reaching the portrait, she grabbed the handle and twisted it, opening the entrance for the irate redhead.

"Ginny, what the fuck happened to your hair?" Hermione couldn't help but stare, her jaw dropping at the sight in front of her.

"HIM! HE HAPPENED!" Ginny pointed an accusing finger at Draco as she stormed in, her usually bright red hair now a vibrant emerald green.

"I was sleeping, Weasley," Draco smirked as he leaned against the bannister of his staircase, arms folded over his chest.

"THE CURSE CAME WITH A MEMO YOU ABSOLUTE TWAT!" Ginny seethed, her wand out threateningly. Coming to her senses, Hermione finally managed to close her mouth and moved to intercept the irate witch before they had to witness her infamous bat-bogey hex.

"Woah, woah! Gin, calm down! Go have a shower, wash your hair, use some sleekeazy's potion and let the colour fade. Use _finite incantatem_. It'll be fine by breakfast, I'm sure!" Hermione placed her hands on the young woman's shoulders, gently nudging her back. Ginny was still furious, but Hermione's suggestion was making sense. Huffing, Ginny allowed herself to be guided back to the portrait, but not without making a particularly vulgar hand gesture at the smirking blonde.

"Yeah, it'll fade – in 24 hours," Draco couldn't help himself, calling out the second before Hermione closed the portrait, catching Ginny's snarling face and screech of rage, his own laughter escaping.

"Honestly Draco, it's not funny! Three weeks ago we were united as a school and now we're in an all-out feud over a stupid quidditch match?" Hermione gave her own huff. The increasing level of pranks and mischief in the castle was running her off her feet, trying to put out spot scuffles and curses where she could. True to form, most of the issues were coming from Gryffindor and Slytherin, both houses to face each other the upcoming weekend for the quidditch cup – whichever team was victorious would be taking home the cup, and apparently even the Second Wizarding War wasn't enough to stop some rivalries from showing.

"You're supposed to be Head Boy, not starting half the damn problems, too!" she scowled at him, her words just making him laugh harder, the sound following her up her spiral staircase as she decided to try and reclaim a few hours of sleep before breakfast.

* * *

The Great Hall erupted into hoots of laughter as the seven members of the Gryffindor quidditch team skulked in, each one sporting the same shade of bright emerald green hair and the matching scowls to go with it. Slamming her bag down on the table, Ginny dropped into the seat besides Hermione, Dean Thomas taking the seat opposite with a beanie yanked down over his head to try and disguise the colour.

"Oh sure, just use some sleekeazy's and _finite incantatem_ and it'll come out…" Ginny mimicked Hermione as she reached for a slice of toast, the Head Girl mostly ignoring her.

"Well, I tried!" Hermione wasn't that fussed with the comment – rivalries between the two houses had been going on for centuries and as Draco had pointed out to her this morning, they wanted things to get back to normal in the castle and this was normal to them. She did put her book down however, looking up to check out the rest of the team. "You know, that colour actually really suits Demelza…"

"This colour suits no one," Ginny huffed, shovelling eggs into her mouth now. "Fucking Draco… just he wait…"

"Wait for what? Ginny, what have you done?" Hermione sighed, the former redhead saved from answering as the beating of hundreds of wings filled the Great Hall, owls swooping in from the open upper windows to deliver mail, letters and parcels deposited in front of students. Hermione reached out and shifted her goblet of juice just in time, her usual morning copy of the _Prophet _landing a moment later.

Polishing off her eggs and starting on her bacon, Ginny just pointed towards the Slytherin table with her fork, a devious glint in her eyes.

* * *

"Nice work, Malfoy," Theodore Nott leaned over the table to bump his fist against Draco's as the Head Boy sat down at last.

"How'd you think Red reacted? Blaise Zabini asked as he sipped his morning coffee.

"By screaming the corridors down and pounding on my door at five in the bloody morning," Draco smirked, looking over to the Gryffindor table where the disgruntled Quidditch team were seated, each player clearly visible by their Slytherin green hair.

"Bet Granger was pissed at you, she seems like she's always got a stick shoved right up her- "

"Finish that sentence and I'll shove your broom so far up your arse that you'll be shitting splinters for a week, Vaisley," Draco snapped his head towards the younger Slytherin, the boy wisely closing his mouth and turning back to his breakfast.

"What's going on with you and Granger anyway?" Theo leaned in, his voice lowered as he asked the question that had been on his mind for a few weeks now, Blaise setting his cup down to listen.

"She's not as bad as she seems," Draco rolled his eyes.

"I heard she dumped that ginger twat," Blaise stared intently at Draco, waiting to gauge his reaction.

"Did she actually? Maybe I'll go have a chat with her. I bet she's wild in bed," Theo grinned as ire flickered on Draco's face. He didn't actually want to sleep with the Gryffindor witch, but he and Blaise had discussed more than once what was going on between their friend and the woman, having deduced months ago that she could be the only thing that had changed enough to stop Draco brooding every time he ventured down to the dungeons.

Draco was saved from answering as the post arrived, owls swooping down and passing over the tables, dropping their mail in front of the intended targets. He hadn't expected to receive anything today and reached for his juice instead, about to raise the goblet and take a sip when a pair of barn owls swooped over him, the first dropping a parcel above his head. Similar parcels fell above Blaise, Theo and Vaisley, three more falling further up the table. A foot above them, each parcel exploded in a show of red and gold fireworks, gallons of scarlet red ink falling the rest of the way and drenching all seven wizards, staining their shirts instantly, Draco's light coloured hair showing the worst of the splotched, inky damage. Without giving them a chance to react, the second owl over each boy swept down and released a tube, more fireworks exploding in the hall as golden glitter rained down, settling into the ink and covering each of the seven Slytherin quidditch players in shining red and gold, laughter ringing out from the three other tables.

Draco rose from his seat after a moment, rage written clearly over his face, hands clenched into fists tight enough that the fork he held in his left hand bent. A hushed silence settled over the Great Hall as every student and more than a few of the staff watched with baited breaths as Draco opened his mouth.

"**_WEASLEY!_**"


	18. Chapter 17

_I own nothing but the plot._

_Warning. Mature and Adult Themes. _

* * *

**May 29****th****, 1999**

The morning of the last Saturday in May saw unbridled levels of tension and excitement within the castle walls, and Hermione was glad that in a few short hours, the final quidditch match of the year would be over and things could go back to normal. It wasn't that she didn't have a sense of house pride, she was rooting for Ginny as much as the rest of Gryffindor was, and of course she wanted them to win… but also didn't get why everyone was getting so intense over the outcome of the match. The Great Hall incident with the Slytherin team hadn't been the last of the chaos and pranks between the two houses, the latest incident happening the night before when the Gryffindor team found themselves suspended above the dinner tables with the _levicorpus_ spell, retaliation for bludgers that had been released in the corridor outside of the Slytherin dungeon – four students had been taken to the hospital wing with broken bones after that incident. And that didn't even touch on how many fireworks and stink bombs had been set off in corridors and classrooms, exploding quills over homework and one incident involving a Gryffindor first year, a suit of armour, and Peeves.

Taking her seat at the Gryffindor table, Hermione offered Ginny a smile, the witch not returning it. Her hair was once again back to red, and had been pulled back into a tight ponytail, her face set and ready for gameday, the rest of the team stocking up on carbs around her. Figuring there wasn't going to be much chance of conversation today given how Harry always was on match day, Hermione shrugged to herself before reaching for the toast, settling in to start her own breakfast, counting down the seconds until the match was over.

* * *

Taking a deep breath, Draco stepped out to the centre of the quidditch pitch, his six teammates flanking him, all seven resplendent in their emerald robes. From the opposite side, the Gryffindor team emerged to mirror their positions, Ginny Weasley front and centre, her hair the same colour as her bright robes. Clutching his well beaten but still loved Nimbus 2001 in his left fist, Draco took the few steps needed to reach the centre of the pitch, Madam Hooch waiting for him and Ginny to arrive. He looked down at the redhead as she made it, a taunting smirk on his face as he took in her steely determination.

"Good luck today, Weaslette. You'll need it," Draco whispered so that the flying instructor and occasionally terrifying referee couldn't hear, reaching out with his right hand to shake hers.

"Is your hair so blonde that it's sparkling in the sunlight, or is that just gold glitter?" Ginny snarked back, squeezing his hand as tight as she could before releasing it.

"No biting, scratching, gouging, hexing or cursing!" Madam Hooch's stern voice rang out once the two captains had stepped back to their teams, her piercing gaze sweeping around the fourteen gathered players to make sure they understood, each one nodding an agreement, most with eyerolls. "Mount your brooms!"

Draco swung his leg over his broom, settling into position, both hands gripping the handle tight. He didn't need to look to know that everyone had followed suit, the Slytherin's and Gryffindor's both on edge, ready to take to the bluebird skies.

"On my whistle, I want a nice, clean game from all of you!" Madam Hooch called out again, each player tightening their grip tensing and ready to shoot up into the air. Kicking open the crate of balls at her feet, the referee set the bludgers and golden snitch free, the three balls shooting up and taking off, bludgers circling the pitch as the snitch disappeared from sight. Raising her whistle to her lips, she gave a loud, trilling blow, the effect on the fourteen players instantaneous as each one kicked off hard against the ground, spreading into their positions. Theodore Nott sped for the goals as Cormac McLaggen did the same for the Gryffindor's, both keepers getting ready as Madam Hooch threw the quaffle into the air.

"… and they're off, circling like wrakspurts as they wait for the quaffle…" Luna Lovegood's voice floated over the pitch, louder than the cheering of the students gathered in the stands. Draco cringed as he heard her voice. For all the bias that Lee Jordan had shown when commentating in previous years, at least he had known about the sport. Tuning her out, Draco pulled himself up to hover twenty feet above the rest of the game, his eyes scanning everywhere for the snitch, the Gryffindor seeker doing a lap of her own just under the main gameplay.

"… my good friend Ginny has the quaffle, oh no she gave it to Demelza, she's another nice Gryffindor… Demelza gave the quaffle to Dean, I wonder what he'll do with it…" Luna continued to commentate, Draco cringing as he listened, choosing instead to watch as a fifth year from his house, Malcolm Baddock, proved why Draco had picked him with a hefty swing at a bludger, sending the vicious ball slamming into Dean Thomas, the boy dropping the quaffle as he spun into the stands. Blaise took advantage, grabbing the quaffle and speeding up the pitch, passing it back and forth between the other two chasers, Vaisley and Harper, the trio managing to avoid every attempt that the Gryffindor seekers made to intercept. Swooping up, Blaise hurled the quaffle with all the force he could, sending the red orb sailing through the left hoop and past McLaggen's outstretched arms, scoring the first ten points of the game to cheers from the Slytherin stands, boos from the other half of the pitch.

Swinging his broom around, Draco resumed his hunt for the snitch, searching intently as he lapped around the outer ring of the pitch, keeping his position above the rest of the game as it continued. The first goal for Slytherin had clicked something inside of Ginny and she was leading the three Gryffindor chasers through dozens of plays that he had to admit he was impressed with, the results of her leadership evident as Gryffindor put away four goals in quick succession.

"Get your shit together, Nott!" Draco called out as he swooped in behind his keeper, getting only a vulgar hand gesture in response. Laughing, Draco changed his tact, diving down to check out the lower regions of the pitch, the Gryffindor seeker opting to tail him for a while instead of searching herself.

"Blaise Zabini has scored again for Slytherin's, he's very handsome, I wonder if that's from exercising a lot," Luna chirped as Blaise beat McLaggen again, the comment about his appearance prompting him to do a quick loop while flexing. "Slytherin are leading with 60 points to 40…"

Draco rose to search from above again, the Gryffindor still mimicking his every move as the match continued, every goal scored on either side prompting both teams to get rougher and rougher. Demelza Robins from Gryffindor was already sporting a blood nose thanks to a well-placed bludger from Baddock, and Vaisley seemed to be barely with it after the Gryffindor beaters, Peakes and Coote, had sandwiched him into flying into one of the towering stands.

"Did you know that there's lots of nargles on quidditch pitches? Oh yes they like to come out and play with all the balls…" Luna informed the school at large, a few laughs breaking out between the intense cheers coming from both ends of the stands. "Oh, yes… Gryffindor lead 170 to 130… Ginny is doing a very good job as captain this year…"

"Nott! Get your fucking act together man!" Draco snarled as he swept past the Slytherin end once more, the keeper not responding at all this time, his gaze focussed on the incoming chasers. Grunting, Draco swung away and sped to the other end of the pitch once more to resume his search, sweat drenching his shirt from the bright sunlight as the match crossed into the two-hour mark, still no sign of his target. The Gryffindor had finally grown bored of tailing him and was doing her own search now, back to swinging around the base of the goalposts.

The Gryffindor chasers were starting to make another run for goals when Draco spotted a flicker of gold right behind Demelza Robins. Glancing down to the Gryffindor seeker, he realised that she hadn't seen it yet and that he might just have an advantage of distance on her. Leaning forwards, he shot towards Demelza, his hand reaching out as he grew closer. The seeker noticed at the same time as the Gryffindor beaters, Peakes and Coote reacting with heavy swings, sending both bludgers speeding towards Draco. He didn't have enough time to pull out or slow down, and his eyes widened as he realised what was about to happen. Gripping his broom tighter with one hand, Draco braced himself for impact, his fingers reaching out and scrabbling before closing around the small, winged golden ball, capturing the snitch seconds before the bludgers connected with his lower back, driving him forwards and into Demelza at speed. Their collision knocked the witch almost clean off of her broom, both players tangled in a mix of red and green robes, spiralling into Ginny Weasley, collecting her as a victim of the crash, Blaise tangled up moments later as they spun into him, the four players spiralling down to the ground with curses from Ginny and Blaise, both Draco and Demelza still too stunned from impact to even speak.

"Oh no, that looks like it might have hurt… I don't think I would like to have been hit like that but I think Draco Malfoy caught the snitch so that means that Slytherin won and won the cup!" Luna leaned forwards to watch, her words bringing screams of delight from one end of the pitch, groans emanating from the other end.

* * *

Draco hefted the quidditch cup up over his head to cheers and the sounds of thumping glasses, his trademark smirk a genuine smile for once. The party in the Slytherin common room had been raging since the end of the match, snacks from the kitchen and butterbeer spread around before some of the seventh years had brought out the firewhiskey and the true fun began.

"Mate! That thing's a babe magnet!" Theo grinned at Draco before handing him a shot of firewhiskey, one of his arms wrapped around the shoulders of Tracey Davies, one of their fellow seventh years.

"Nott she's been blind for four years!" Draco laughed as he accepted the shot, knocking it back swiftly, a slight grimace following as the liquor burned down his throat.

"She's not blind mate!" Theo was aghast, punching Draco's arm.

"She is if she's with you!" Draco took the punch, considering putting his friend into a headlock but he decided against it, instead pressing a kiss to Tracey's cheek. "You're too good for him, Davies!" The girl just blushed, shaking her head as she led Theo over to get more drinks. The way her cheeks lit up reminded Draco of the blush Hermione had worn around him most of the year, and he found himself missing the girl's company as he watched his old friend gather a plate for his girlfriend.

"Stop thinking about Granger, Malfoy," Blaise sidled up besides Draco, handing him another shot of whiskey.

"Fuck you, I wasn't thinking about her," Draco huffed, knocking back the second shot with ease, feeling the effects of the liquor as his inhibitions relaxed.

"Fine, maybe I'll go see if she wants a romp between the sheets," Blaise knew something was going on with Malfoy and the Head Girl, and he'd grown tired of the subtle nudges. Things had changed after the war and he was starting to think that happiness mattered more than blood status – not that he ever really cared about blood to begin with. He couldn't deny that the Gryffindor witch was probably a good match for the Slytherin prince though, her wit and intelligence undeniably high, and she'd grown into a damn fine woman underneath those robes.

"Don't you fucking dare, Zabini!" Draco snarled, swaying a bit as he spun quickly to face the exotic wizard, getting right in his face.

"Go fucking do something then, before someone else does!" Blaise rolled his eyes and shoved Draco back, knowing full well that he was goading the Head Boy.

"Fuck you, Zabini!" Draco snarled again before shoving past Blaise, disappearing from the common room, leaving the quidditch cup behind as the only reminder that their team captain had shown up.

* * *

Hermione stood suddenly as she heard the portrait open. She hadn't expected Draco to be back in their rooms at all tonight and was taking advantage of her alone time to read by the fireplace, her book falling to the floor as she moved. Her cheeks flamed red when she realised that he was about to see her in her sleepwear, her preferred style at this time of year being a skimpy tank top, and even skimpier lace sleep shorts that did absolutely nothing to hide any part of her body.

"Draco?" her voice squeaked slightly, rising an octave at the end as she questioned, even though she knew it was him who had entered. If his blonde hair hadn't been a dead giveaway, the comforting sense she got when he was around these days would have been.

Draco took a few steps into the common room, emboldened by the firewhiskey until he set his eyes on the petite witch, his mouth suddenly going dry when he took in what she was wearing.

"Granger…" his voice was low, and he was grateful that it didn't crack when he spoke. He liked the way his first name sounded on her lips, but he couldn't bring himself to return the favour and use hers – Granger seemed to fit her better, or so he felt.

"Draco, is everything okay?" Hermione took a few tentative steps towards the blonde, her head tilted up to look at him. She was always taken aback by the fact that he towered over her, but she never once felt intimidated, not even when he was looking at her with such intensity as he was right now.

Draco didn't respond verbally, liquid courage spurring him on as he strode towards the witch who had been making her mark on him for the past eight months, no, eight years if he was honest. Reaching her, he wrapped one arm around her waist to pull her close, leaning down to close the gap as his lips crushed against hers in a bruising kiss. Hermione's eyes widened as sparks tingled in her body, her own arms wrapping around him moments later, hands dragging up and down his shirt – Draco was still in his quidditch uniform sans the robes and padding, and for the first time in her life she found herself rather attracted to the look.

Hermione parted her lips as Draco pressed against her, his tongue all but demanding entrance before sweeping in the second she granted it, exploring and ravaging her mouth in skilful strokes, his arm slipping on her waist, his hand coming to rest against her backside. Hermione responded only with a moan, rising up on her toes to deepen the kiss, her breasts crushed against his chest, and she felt something solid pressing against her abdomen, tantalisingly close to the heat that was pooling in her core.

The short tether on his will snapped as Hermione rolled her hips against him, swallowing her moans as he directed her backwards, making her move with him as he stepped, hands groping at her backside, the kiss unbroken but just as passionate and bruising. Hermione gasped against his lips when her back hit a wall, her chocolate brown eyes widening as she stared into his stormy grey gaze. Her hands moved to tug at his shirt, pulling the emerald fabric up to reveal his upper body to her. Draco pulled back only long enough to help her yank the shirt up over his head, a guttural growl escaping him as he took in the sight of her, lust addling his brain just as much as it was hers. Slamming his lips to hers again, Draco grazed his fingers over her stomach, over the soft fabric of her tank top. He wanted to see what she was hiding underneath the skimpy scraps of material, but he wanted to touch her more than that. Keeping his eyes on hers, he shifted his hand until his palm brushed over the lace shorts that covered her core, feeling the heat radiating from between her thighs. Giving another growl into her mouth, Draco shifted his hand once more, slipping it under the waistband of her shorts to feel along her skin, fingers splaying out as they moved lower and lower, gliding along the slickness that had formed between her legs.

Tugging at her bottom lip with his teeth, Draco shifted his hand once more, his fingers searching until the pad of his index finger found what he wanted, brushing gently over what he knew would be an exceptionally sensitive bundle of nerves. He was right as Hermione's eyes widened and she gasped at the unexpected touch, his fingertip now making lazy circles around the sensitive bud, growing closer and closer before backing away again, teasing the witch now rolling her hips into his hand.

"Draco…" Hermione moaned, dropping her head back against the wall as he came close to touching her clitoris again, only to pull away. "Fuck, please Draco!" She couldn't help it, whatever tether that she had that had been stopping her from going all the way with the blonde Slytherin had snapped, and she wanted him more than she had ever wanted any of her previous sexual partners. He responded to her begs with another movement, his middle finger stroking between her slick folds to tease at her entrance, pressing forwards a moment later as he thrust the digit into her at an agonisingly slow speed, Hermione's back arching as she pushed herself to him again with a drawn out moan, electricity racing through her body, every nerve ending awash with pleasure as he filled her with something, his finger curling up just the right way to reach the areas that she never could.

"Dracoooo!" Hermione bucked her hips against him again, grateful that the wall was helping to keep her upright as his body pressed into her, her nails raking along his back. She didn't care if she was leaving marks, she didn't even care that she was perilously close to reaching her peak already, his slowly thrusting finger and the ever circling taunts around her throbbing clitoris pushing her to the edge. Draco gave his own groan again, slamming his lips back to hers as he kissed her brutally, his middle finger twisting and curling as her walls gripped him like a vice. If he had been surprised not to find any resistance in her channel, he hadn't shown it. It didn't bother him if Hermione had slept with no one, or a hundred men, he just wanted her. Dragging his index finger over her sensitive nerves again, he gave up on his teasing circles to instead flick over the bundle repeatedly, feeling the way it caused her to contract around his finger, her eyes rolling back into her head as she moaned into their kiss.

"Fuck Draco!" Hermione was the one to break the kiss this time, turning her head to get away from his lips only so that she could cry out his name as pleasure crashed over her, her muscles tightening and relaxing, spasming as she climaxed against his hand. She didn't let it stop her though, still not fully satisfied, not when she could feel him pressing against her. Dragging her nails down his back, Hermione knew she left a few marks before she managed to get her hands between them instead, fumbling with the button that kept his form fitting quidditch trousers in place. She had only just managed to get the fly undone when Draco withdrew his fingers from inside of her shorts, grabbing the lace and tugging it instead, pulling her shorts down her thighs until she could let them fall away completely. Hermione barely registered that they were gone as she managed to push his trousers and underwear down in one swift move, freeing his rather hard length from the confines of his uniform. Draco growled again, in too much of a rush to bother letting her undress him fully, figuring his trousers were down far enough. Wrapping one of his arms around Hermione, he hoisted the witch up enough for her to wrap her legs around his waist, her back still pressed to the wall, his other hand worked between them to hold himself steady, lining up with her still soaked entrance. Groaning with need, Draco slowly thrust forwards, pressing against her until she stretched just enough to allow him to sink in, filling her inch by agonisingly slow inch, both of them wanting to drag out the feelings, her of being filled and him of the tight, clenching walls gripping his member.

Pressing against Hermione, Draco rested his forehead against hers, grey locked on brown as he sank all the way into her, their hips firmly together as they stayed in place, both gasping with need and desire.

"Please…" Hermione whispered, her breath brushing over his lips and that word was all he needed, pulling back only to slam himself forwards and fill her again, thrusting over and over again, Hermione's back hitting against the wall with every jarring thrust he made. Her arms were wrapped around him again, one hand clawing at his back as the other came up to tangle in his tousled blonde hair, the silky strands gliding through her fingers as he took her. There wasn't much to his rhythm at this point but Hermione found herself not caring, his hand still trapped between them, his fingers stretching to flick at and lightly pinch her clitoris again, drawing moans of pure pleasure from her lips. Draco sped up at the moans, her sounds spurring him on as he thrust into her with wild abandon, knowing that he was embarrassingly close but wanting to get there anyway, lust clouding his mind.

Pinching at her clitoris again, Hermione arched her back and screamed out her pleasure as she climaxed again, her walls gripping him like a vice as she clenched down, pleasure filling every space in and out of her body as sparks exploded around them, figuratively and literally as she lost control. Draco gave a primal grunt of his own as he slammed into her one last time, her convulsing walls keeping him in place and driving him over the edge as well, pleasure rocking his body as he reached his own climax, releasing his load deep within her, practically twitching in time with his heartbeat as he filled her with his semen, hips rolling to drive it deep into her.

**"_Draco!"_**

**"_Hermione!"_**


	19. Chapter 18

_I own nothing but the plot._

* * *

**June 9****th****, 1999**

"Hermione… it's not that I don't love you, but don't you think it's a bit early?" Ginny Weasley winced as she sat up and rubbed her eyes, the Head Girl having already dropped onto her bed. Glancing through the curtains of her four poster, Ginny tried to gauge what time it was before giving up and assuming it was the crack of dawn.

"What do you mean?" Hermione blinked in surprise, setting down the planner she'd been scrawling in. She'd been in the Gryffindor common room all night but found herself distracted in the early hours of the morning and decided to spend some time with her friend before classes.

"It's… the sun is barely up! You've done this every day for like a week, what are you avoiding?" Ginny grumbled, falling back into the pillows.

"I'm not avoiding anything, Gin. Exams start soon and I need to make sure our revision plans are complete!" Hermione gestured to the planner on the faded crimson bedspread.

"Hermione, I've gone to school with you for seven years now, and never before have you interrupted me, or the boys, at the crack of dawn to talk about revision. At breakfast, sure, but not when normal people are sleeping," Ginny folded her arms over her chest, an eyebrow raised. "Are you even sleeping? When was the last time you went back to your dorm?"

"How can I sleep? I need to revise. I don't what you're talking about," Hermione spun the quill between her fingers, wringing the feathers slightly as her voice quickened. She was avoiding going back to her dormitory and had been avoiding Malfoy for the better part of two weeks. Ever since the Quidditch final and they-

"Are you avoiding Malfoy? Has he been a wanker about winning the cup?" Ginny interrupted her thoughts by bringing up the very day she was trying to avoid.

"No!" Hermione's squeaked, snapping her quill.

"You are avoiding Malfoy!" Ginny leaned forwards, suddenly far more awake and alert, practically smelling the gossip. She knew Malfoy had been different this year compared to the past, and she'd come to respect him after what happened with Dennis, so she knew Hermione wasn't in any physical harm from the Slytherin, so something else had to be keeping her away. "No, you're not avoiding him, or no, he hasn't been a wanker about the cup?"

"He's proud but not going on about it or anything like that… he's focusing on his studies," Hermione couldn't stop the slightly defensive tone from creeping into her voice.

"So you're avoiding him?" Ginny grinned, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

"I'm… that's not what I said!" Hermione blushed, throwing a pillow at the redhead. Ginny caught it with ease, her grin never fading.

"You've spent every single day with us for like, two weeks, and been waking me up for a week now which means that you're not sleeping either… trust me, you can't hide those bags," Ginny gestured to Hermione's tired and haggard face, dark purple bags under her eyes having formed over the last few sleepless days. "And if he's just studying… something must have happened,"

"Nothing happened!" Hermione quickly shut the younger witch down, her blush creeping down her neck.

"Something _definitely_ happened. If he hasn't been gloating… and he's been fine all year, I'd even say you two seemed like friends…" Ginny tilted her head to the side, watching the older witch blush and squirm on her bed. "Oh my God, did you two kiss?"

"Ginny!" Hermione gasped, her blush deepening slightly.

"You did!" Ginny grinned, leaning forwards, "Details!"

It didn't bother the younger witch that Hermione was moving on from Ron. Sure, he was her brother, but she had known for years that the two really wouldn't work together, and she loved Hermione like a sister. A sister who had been through so much and deserved the world. A world that she also knew her blockhead of a brother couldn't provide. She wasn't sure if a certain blonde Slytherin could provide it either, but all she cared about was that Hermione felt the happiness she got with Harry, regardless of who caused it.

"Ginny!" Hermione gasped again, looking for something to toss at the redhead again. "Why would I avoid him after another kiss?"

"ANOTHER KISS!?" Ginny yelled excitedly, finding a hand over her mouth seconds later as Hermione lunged forwards, her face burning crimson with a blush.

"Ginny! Keep your voice down!" Hermione hissed, keeping Ginny's mouth covered. There were a few sounds from the other beds in the dormitory as the other sixth year girls slept, but nothing to indicate that anyone had woken or heard Ginny's outburst. Grabbing her wand out of the pocket of her robes, Hermione pointed it at the curtains surrounding the bed, "_muffliato!"_

Releasing her hand once the muffling charm was cast, Hermione sat back and folded her arms over her chest.

"Details! You never told me that you _kissed_ him!" Ginny burst out again, leaning forwards. "Wait, if it was again, and you didn't run away last time…"

"Ginerva Weasley I swear…" Hermione warned the redhead.

"YOU SLEPT TOGETHER!?" Ginny burst out a few seconds later, Hermione's blush deepening and only confirming her theory.

"Ginny!" Hermione threw the snapped end of her quill at Ginny, her face burning bright.

"You totally did. How was it!? Details, woman!" Ginny wasn't deterred, bouncing slightly as she sat, eager for details.

"I…" Hermione trailed off, still mortified that the younger girl had figured her out already, but she couldn't stop the small, satisfied smile that spread across her face.

"Details, woman!" Ginny grinned as Hermione slowly started to spill.

* * *

"Mate, Pansy is being fucking unbearable," Blaise grumbled as he slumped into a bench at the Slytherin table, reaching immediately for the coffee.

"She's not even chasing after you," Draco quirked a brow as he speared a sausage on the end of his fork.

"That's how fucking unbearable she is though. Thirsty as fuck," Blaise continued to complain, pouring his coffee before adding a dash of sugar to make it more palatable.

"Worse than usual?" Draco didn't think it was possible, but he hadn't been in the Slytherin dungeons that much this year. He knew what she'd been like the last few years fawning over him though, so he was fairly certain the exotic male was exaggerating.

"If she doesn't get shagged in the next week, I'm pretty sure she's gonna explode. It's like winning the cup somehow connected to her fucking ovaries," Blaise groused, sipping his coffee. Draco couldn't help but laugh, turning his head to look down the table to where the black-haired woman was currently sitting, giggling at everything being said to her.

"Jesus I can actually smell the sexual tension," Draco grimaced as he watched Pansy give a simpering laugh, batting her eyelashes excessively at the wizard opposite her.

"I wish he'd just bone her and get it over and done with," Blaise cringed as he pictured it in his mind, wishing that he had bleach a moment later. Pansy's voice floated towards them a second later as she flirted obviously with the lanky brunet opposite her, the rather suggestive phrase causing Theodore Nott to tug at his collar, cheeks flushed slightly.

"Poor bastard," Draco laughed as he watched their friend fend off the overly eager woman, grateful that her attention had turned away from him at last, especially since his own affections were increasingly linked to a certain bushy haired Gryffindor witch – one who had been avoiding him ever since they spent the night together. Resting his chin on his palm, Draco tuned out the sounds of breakfast and Blaise's continued complaints, his silvery gaze locked on the Gryffindor table and the woman that filled his thoughts.


	20. Chapter 19

_I own nothing but the plot._

_Warning. Mature themes, adult content within._

* * *

**June 22****nd****, 1999**

Draco Malfoy was used to many things. He was used to being feared and respected. He was used to ruling the Slytherin house, used to dominating Hogwarts. During the war, he became used to stress, he became used to deceit and deception. He became used to making himself scarce when Voldemort had taken residence in the Manor that had belonged to his family for centuries.

Yes, Draco Malfoy was used to many things. Being ignored and avoided was not one of them, and he found that he didn't like it at all. Especially when it was a certain bushy haired witch avoiding him, a witch who he couldn't get off his mind. He hadn't seen her for almost a month, she was either gone before he got up, or just never came back to their common room at all. He knew that she was in her room this time though, having heard her moving during the night when he ventured to the bathroom.

Thus, Draco Malfoy found himself sitting on the chair he had pulled to the base of her small staircase at the crack of dawn, arms folded over his chest and a scowl on his sharp face. Draco Malfoy didn't like to be ignored, and he wasn't going to put up with it any longer. His muscles grew stiff as he sat and waited, the sun rising steadily over the castle grounds and noises beginning to sound from the Head Girl's room. It was still too early for breakfast when the bedroom door cracked open at last and the witch of all his frustrations slipped out, hoisting her book bag over her shoulder as she made down the stairs.

"You've been avoiding me, Granger," Draco's voice cut through the otherwise silent room, hoarse from hours without use.

"Jesus fuck!" Hermione slipped, crashing onto her backside on the stairs, hand flying up to her chest to rest over her racing heart. "What the fuck Malfoy!?"

"I didn't think I was that terrifying!" Draco leapt from his chair, knocking it back as he made to stride up the stairs to help her up. His foot barely pressed against the third step before there was a rumble followed by clicks, each step tilting into a smooth slide, sending him crashing down face first onto the stone. Throwing his hands out to catch himself, Draco swore before sliding back down to the base in a heap, Hermione crashing into him seconds later as she slid down the newly formed slide.

"Did no one ever tell you not to go into the girls' dormitory?" Hermione huffed as she tumbled into his strong form, books spilling from her bag as the pair tangled together in an undignified heap on the floor. "And I'm not avoiding you, why would I be avoiding you?"

"This is our first conversation in three weeks, Granger," Draco raised an eyebrow as Hermione's hand pressed into his chest, holding him down as she pushed herself upright, a hand rising to straighten her tie.

"Exams start on Monday, Malfoy. I've been studying, as you should be," Hermione huffed, bending to grab the strap of her book bag again, eager to be away from the Slytherin. She didn't have much chance though as his hand shot out, strong fingers wrapping around her wrist to stop her moving further. She gasped, well aware of his grip but surprised by the gentleness in the action.

"You've used my name for months. Do you regret it?" Draco sat up as he stared intently into her chocolate brown pools, searching for an answer that he wasn't even sure he wanted. He had missed her friendship, her companionship. He missed bouncing ideas for potions off of her and picking her brain for new suggestions. He missed her touch, her taste and her smell. He missed her, and he knew it.

"I… Malfoy… Draco…" Hermione sighed, looking away from the wizard searching her soul. She didn't know what to tell him. She didn't know how to feel or what to think. "Okay, fine. I've been avoiding you." She opted for the easier answer of what he had posed to her already.

"Why?" Draco's voice was soft, his grip relaxing on her wrist. His heart pounded in his chest, and fear knotted deep in his stomach as he waited for her answer. "Do you regret it, Hermione?"

"Draco…" Hermione sighed, a blush creeping across her cheeks. Looking back towards the man sitting before her, she felt a lump catch in her throat as a muscle feathered in his jaw and his eyes clouded over with what almost looked like hurt. She had seen him lower his guard already this year, but this was the first time she'd been able to describe him as vulnerable.

"I'll relocate to the Slytherin dungeons immediately," Draco's voice was quiet as he let go of her wrist completely, the knot in his stomach settling to become what he expected to be a permanent fixture, along with the ache in his chest. It surprised him how much her lack of answer was hurting. He knew he'd grown attached to the witch but it hadn't dawned on him that he was actually developing feelings for her beyond platonic. Sure, he knew he was attracted to her, but he was starting to think that it was more than just hormones raging through his blood.

Hermione bit her lip to keep in a cry as she heard his words, astounded that he was willing to give her the Head Dormitory with no argument at all. But she didn't want that. She didn't know how she felt about most things, but she knew what she wanted, or didn't want. For once in her life though, Hermione Granger was rendered speechless and if she didn't figure out something soon, it was going to cause damage she wasn't sure anyone could repair. Opening and closing her mouth a few times, she tried to find the words to explain what was going on her mind, to explain that she was still trying to work out everything with her failed relationship with Ron, that she was trying to figure out why every time she closed her eyes she fantasised about the blonde, that she was trying to understand why she missed him so much.

Opting for action when words continued to fail her, Hermione gave up and threw herself at the wizard, her body crashing into his again. His arms reflexively came out to catch her, lips parting to ask what she was doing. He didn't have a chance to form the words before her mouth was on his, all of her frustration and confusion expressed in the heated kiss. Draco was stunned, taking a few seconds to actually realise what she was doing, his body language changing as soon as he figured it out. One arm stayed wrapped around her waist as the other came up to tangle in her hair, just wanting to feel the surprisingly soft curls. His lips moved against hers until she deepened the kiss again, her tongue swiping at his bottom lip, coaxing his own to come out and play.

Draco had no idea how long they were making out for before Hermione's hips moved and he felt more than anything her gasp against his lips when she made contact with the achingly hard front of his trousers.

"Hermione, you don't have to…" Draco tore away from the kiss to rasp out when her hands moved to his belt, her fingers scrabbling at the buckle as she clumsily tried to release it.

"Shut up, Draco," Hermione's own voice was breathy and laced with pure lust. The witch wanted him more than she'd wanted anything in a long time, and she felt her whole body aching with need, aching to be closer to him, to be filled by him. Succeeding with his belt, she left it in the loops and came to work at his fly, tugging the button and zipper down with ease. She rose over him slightly, one hand slipping into his trousers and under the strained fabric of his underwear. Hermione groaned at the same time as Draco as her hand wrapped around the silken yet steel appendage between his thighs, palming his length for a moment before freeing it from the confines of his clothing.

"Hermione…" Draco rasped again, releasing his grip on the witch to instead lay back across the floor, propped up only on his elbows. His heart was racing in his chest and he knew she could tell, each thump reflected with a twitch of his shaft, standing proudly to attention.

Hermione didn't respond with words, her tongue coming out to flick over her bottom lip as she took in the sight of the wizard in front of her, eyes locking on his for a moment before her attention went straight back to his lap. Impatience got the better of her after a few seconds, she needed to feel him inside of her _**now**_. Rising up on her knees, Hermione shifted into position straddling him, her skirt hiked up her thighs. She settled herself above him, one hand slipping between her legs, blush burning over her cheeks as she felt just how hot and slick she was down there. Grabbing at her own panties, she tugged them to the side and held them there, hips rolling as she lined herself up with Draco, the head of his cock brushing over her soaked folds before finding her entrance. Rocking once more, Hermione locked her eyes on his silvery gaze, sinking down with a gasp, impaling herself on every glorious inch he had to offer her.

"Fuck!" Draco growled out, his hips bucking up as Hermione lowered herself onto him, feeling her heat wrap around him like a glove. He knew she wasn't a virgin when they first slept together, but he was surprised to find that she seemed rather… experienced as she started to rock against him, her own hips rolling as she started to ride him. His hands moved to grip her waist, not guiding her, only holding as Hermione continued to move, raising herself up only to slam back down and impale herself, his cock twitching in her snug channel as he struggled not to lose his control prematurely. He'd never had that problem before, but something about the Gryffindor witch undid him every time he saw her.

Hermione gave a wanton moan as she shifted on him, leaning forwards to brace her hands on his shoulders, speeding up her rises and falls. Her thighs were tensed and she felt a cramp forming but she was more concerned with the tension coiling in her belly, her adjusted angle causing her clit to grind against his pelvis every time she dropped down against him. She knew she'd be bruised most likely from the way she was slamming herself into him, but she really didn't care as her climax started to build.

"Fuuuuck!" Draco growled again as Hermione leaned over him, her full breasts pressing into his chest. His hands slid up her hips, yanking her shirt out of her skirt so that he could feel her skin, working his way up the white fabric to find her covered breasts. Grinning when he felt the lace that no one would expect the supposedly prudish Head Girl to wear, Draco splayed his fingers out and palmed at her, groping as best he could while she rode him. He felt her orgasm before he saw her fall apart, her inner walls clenching and spasming around his entire length as she slammed herself down and started to practically hump him, the sensations too much for him as well, unloading his release inside of her with a purely male, primal roar.

Hermione slumped down on top of him, gasping for breath as she tried to calm down, her hips slowing down. There was nothing but the sound of their mixed gasps for a few minutes, Hermione rolling off of him at last, a whimper escaping her as his still hard shaft slipped free.

"Draco…" Hermione gasped again, turning to look at him, feeling a wave of arousal wash over her at the predatory gleam in his eyes.

Draco didn't say a word, shifting over the witch of his fantasies, lips crushing against hers in another savage, bruising kiss. His hands yanked at her tie, tugging the knot free before tossing it aside, feverishly working at the buttons on her shirt, wanting to see more. Hermione moaned against his lips as she returned the kiss before yielding to him, her own hands working at his tie, slipping it free and tossing it over her shoulder, yanking at his collar hard enough for the top two buttons to rip free, bouncing across the plush carpet.

Hermione moaned against his mouth again as Draco's tongue swept through her mouth, exploring and claiming her, his hands working down to push her bra out of the way, her shirt opened to expose herself to his view, not that he seemed to be looking anywhere but into her eyes. She rolled her hips again as she felt his still hard cock press against her drenched core, the lace of her panties back blocking him from entering her once more.

Draco pulled his head back, teeth tugging at her bottom lip, sucking at it for a moment before releasing. Kissing his way down her jaw, he trailed his tongue teasingly lower, working over her neck until he reached the juncture of her throat and collarbone, teeth sinking in hard enough to leave a mark. Crying out, Hermione raised her hands to tangle in his hair, silky platinum strands caught in her fists.

"Draco! Fuck! Please, fuck me!" Hermione begged, and she wasn't even ashamed. She still wanted him, couldn't get enough of him. Gliding his hands down her sides, Draco hiked her skirt up to get where he needed to be, hands finding the lace blocking her lower half still. Catching his fingers in the sides, he tugged hard, repeating the motion until they ripped, yanking her panties free with little fanfare. Shifting his hips, he slid one hand lower to wrap around the base of his cock, lining himself up with her still soaked, still eager pussy, spearing forwards to bury himself in one swift movement, lips wrapping around a stiffened nipple at the same time.

Hermione moaned, arching her back at the dual contact, her hands tugging at his hair to keep him against her breast, legs coming up to wrap around his waist, preventing him from pulling back too far. She didn't want to be without him right now, or ever with the way he was making her feel. Draco's teeth grazed over her nipple, biting and tugging at it with ease, each motion sending jolts of electricity through her body. Releasing one hand from his hair, she flung it over her head as she arched in ecstasy while he thrust into her repeatedly, muffled moans against her breast, her own loud and clear.

Draco couldn't control himself at all this time, his will power completely gone as he slammed himself into the witch, her inner walls practically milking him as she clenched and relaxed under him, rhythmic enough that he was almost certain that she was doing it purpose. He couldn't handle the sensations any longer, driving his hips forwards, pulling away from her breast to slam his lips against hers once more, letting her swallow his roar of pleasure. His eyes locked into hers, grey searching chocolate brown as he released himself within her again, her orgasm crashing down seconds later.

Hermione's hand moved over her head, knocking into her bookbag. She needed to grip something as she came with him, fingers wrapping around the slender handle of her wand, red sparks shooting into the air seconds later, her magic mixing with her climax.

* * *

"Has anyone seen Hermione?" Neville Longbottom glanced along the Gryffindor table nervously as they neared the end of breakfast.

"Not since she went back to her dorm last night," Ginny shrugged, speaking between mouthfuls of scrambled eggs.

"Thank God," muttered Seamus, scooping his own breakfast into his mouth.

It wasn't that the Gryffindors didn't love Hermione. They just liked smaller doses of the witch, especially around exams. She'd become an almost permanent fixture in the Gryffindor common room, and had taken to bombarding each of them with revision plans and quizzes the second they walked past her.

"This is our first planner free morning in like a month, Neville. Don't ruin it now!" Dean piped up from where he was slumped over the table.

"Amen to that," Ginny finished off her eggs, dropping her cutlery down as the doors to the Great Hall swung open, Draco Malfoy sauntering through. Ginny raised an eyebrow as she watched the Head Boy make his way to the Slytherin table, one hand thrust in his pocket as he walked, his hair more tousled than usual. Almost like he'd been running his hands through it all morning. Or someone else had. Conversation continued around her as Dean went back to trying to explain muggle football to the two wizards, West Ham preparing to play in a summer competition that Dean wanted to attend.

* * *

"Bit relaxed there, mate. Slept in?" Blaise quirked a brow as Draco settled into a seat.

The Slytherin Prince only smirked, pouring himself a cup of strong coffee, one hand still in the pocket of his slacks, fingers idly stroking along a scrap of ripped, damp lace.

"Slept with someone, more like," Theo grimaced as he recognised the satisfied look on Draco's face.

Draco didn't say a word, the mug smirk never fading as he raised his coffee to his lips, not at all oblivious to the fawning looks he was getting from some of the younger Slytherin females, a few pointing and fanning at his casual look, tie missing and the first few buttons of his shirt undone – or missing.

"Ugh, lucky bastard."

* * *

"Morning guys!" Hermione breathlessly greeted her friends as she dropped into the empty space beside Neville at the Gryffindor table, immediately reaching for the orange juice, knowing she only had a few minutes to eat before classes started.

"Morning Hermione," the three chorused back at her, Seamus looking up to smile at her. The smile faltered on his lips as he took in the dishevelled look of the Head Girl.

"What's that?" Seamus tilted his head, one hand pointing at her throat.

"What's what?" Blushing furiously, Hermione raised her hand to her throat, fingers ducking under her collar to cover the hickey that had been left behind.

"Nice tie, Hermione," Ginny commented dryly, finishing the last of her tea.

"What?" frowning, Hermione looked down at herself, eyes widening and blush deepening as her gaze caught the silver and green fabric hanging from her neck. "Oh fuck."

* * *

_I don't often put an authors note at the end of my stories. Or at the beginning. I don't know why, it's just not something I've ever done. _

_But I want to acknowledge each and every person who has commented. I read them all, and I thank you for your support. _

_I want to acknowledge each and every person to add this to their favourites. I see the alerts, and I thank you for your support._

_I want to acknowledge each and every person to follow this. I see it, and I thank you for your support._

_I want to acknowledge each and every person to read. I appreciate it, and I thank you for your support. _

_Thank you, to everyone. Everyone who clicks, likes, comments, reads, or any combination of the above. Your continued support is why I continue to write. _

_Thank you. _


	21. Chapter 20

_I own nothing but the plot._

_Warning: Adult content. Mature themes. Shameless content._

* * *

**June 30****th****, 1999**

Ginny shook her head as she sat down at the Gryffindor table, barely able to see the plates for all the books stacked on the wooden surface, the seventh year students either hunched over them, or almost asleep as they slumped on the table themselves. They were halfway through the week of N.E.W.T exams, and so far they were living up to the name of nastily exhausting. Swiping a slice of toast, Ginny settled into her seat and inspected her group of friends.

"You guys look like shit," she proclaimed bluntly, taking a bite of her toast.

"We can't all be like you and just have normal exams… lucky bitch," Dean Thomas grumbled, prying himself away from the pages of his textbook. The insult wasn't one that was often heard from him, but Ginny didn't mind. Instead she just laughed, reaching out to peel a scrap of paper off of the dark-skinned boy's cheek.

"What's on the agenda for today?" she asked, reaching for a second slice of toast.

"Charms and…" Neville started to respond, his face turning a sickly shade of green, cutting off whatever he was going to say. The bench scraped against the floor as he pushed himself upright, a hand clapped over his mouth as he sprinted out of the hall.

"Potions, huh?" Ginny mused, watching Neville's disappearing back. "Poor sod doesn't even take the class but can't think about it without puking…"

"Yes, well, Professor Snape _did_ torment him…" Hermione defended Neville's escape before stopping herself, colour draining from her face.

"Are you okay?" Ginny's attention turned to her female friend, brow furrowing as Hermione swayed in her seat, white as a sheet. The Head Girl didn't respond with words, instead she slapped a hand over her own mouth, rising to her feet suddenly and following Neville, robes billowing behind her as she sprinted out of the Great Hall, nearly knocking into Draco as he passed by the Gryffindor's.

Pausing, Draco turned his head to the redhead still sitting here, one eyebrow raised.

"Poisoning the Head Girl, Weaselette?" Draco drawled, all heat missing from his tone.

"She's like this every year. Honestly, smartest witch in an age but still stresses herself sick over exams," Ginny shook her head before popping the last bite of toast into her mouth, dismissing the Head Boy without another look.

* * *

Draco understood Hermione's early departure from breakfast a whole lot more when he emerged from the Great Hall three hours later, ashen faced after the Charms exam. He considered himself a competent wizard but after making a pineapple tap dance across a levitating desk amongst other things, he was drained. He wasn't the only one feeling that way either, Blaise and Theo flanking him, both an unhealthy hue.

Swallowing the bile in his throat, Draco stepped away from his friends to approach Neville Longbottom, the usually clumsy Gryffindor slumped against a suit of armour. Reaching his hand out, Draco offered it to the young man.

"Nice leg locker back there, Longbottom," Draco's voice was raw, nothing but honesty in his tone. Neville blinked a few times as he looked up, shocked at the words coming from the Slytherin Prince himself. "Sorry about using it on you back in first year, I was, uh, I was a bit of a prick."

Neville blinked again, stunned at the apology being offered to him, his mouth falling open as he stared at the extended hand.

"I… thanks, Malfoy. I appreciate the apology," reaching out slowly, Neville took Malfoy's hand, gripping firmly as they shook. He was still stunned by the apology and had no clue what prompted it, but throughout the year he'd begun to see that the man in front of him wasn't the same pointy chined boy from eight years ago, just as Draco knew that the confident Gryffindor wasn't the same forgetful, chubby child either.

Draco didn't get a chance to say anything else before he was bowled over by a smaller but determined form making up the stairs, Neville's other hand coming to catch his shoulder.

"What the…" Draco turned his head to see who had shoved him aside, catching a glimpse of Hermione's head as she ran up the stairs, looking like she had a hand firmly clapped over her mouth once more. "Is she always like this? Weaselette said it's an exam thing."

"Every year, wait until she starts to relive it with you afterwards," Neville shook his head before clapping Draco on the shoulder, stepping past the taller male and making his way out the front doors, disappearing into the sunny courtyard.

* * *

"How do you think you went with your potion?" Hermione twisted her tie between her hands as she approached Draco. Glancing up from the book in front of him, he quirked a brow at the witch.

"So, Longbottom wasn't kidding, you really do like to debrief," he mused, settling back in his chair to watch her properly. He was surprised that she had found him at his preferred table, hidden deep in the stacks of the library. Pulling out the chair opposite him, Hermione sank into the seat, her elbows knocking onto the scarred surface top, head cradled in her hands moments later.

"When did you speak to Neville?" Hermione questioned. "Actually, I don't even want to know. How was your potion? I feel like the colour of mine was off."

"Stop stressing, Granger. It's done," Draco turned back to his book, scratching a few notes onto a parchment as he prepared for the Transfiguration exam in the morning.

"How can I?! It wasn't right," Hermione looked up, twisting her tie anxiously once more. "Draco, please. How was yours? I swear I was lilac not violet…"

"Jesus Christ, Granger. It was purple, same as yours. Relax. You're going to make yourself sick again," Draco shut his book, leaning back in his chair to watch the clearly anxious witch.

"Draco, please. I need to talk about it, or a distraction or… just something," Hermione leaned forwards towards him, one hand stretching out across the table.

Draco's lips curled into a wicked smirk as she asked for a distraction, even wickeder ideas forming in his mind. Glancing around, he made sure they were alone in their section of the library. Pushing his chair back a moment later, Draco ducked under the table, shuffling over to Hermione, his hands reaching out to glide along her knees, sneaking under her skirt.

"Draco!" Hermione hissed, sitting upright as the blonde disappeared, glancing around the library. "We're in the library!" she kept her voice low, inwardly cursing herself as his hands against her thighs instantly soaked her panties, her body reacting to him. Reassured that no one was around, she sank back into her chair, her legs parting to let him settle between them. She was amazed how attuned she felt to him, the lack of visual made up completely with the intensity of every touch, feeling the callouses of his fingertips gliding along her soft inner thighs, reaching for another scrap of lace that she knew probably wasn't school appropriate.

Draco settled into position between her now parted thighs, tugging the lace down. She couldn't see the wicked grin on his face, but she could definitely feel it when he blew out softly, cool air hitting the soaked folds of her core. Hermione bit her lip to keep in a gasp, shifting herself to the edge of the chair, making it easier for Draco. Her eyes rolled back into her head the second his tongue flicked out and he tasted her for the first time, soft, exploratory touches along her folds making her toes curl with pleasure.

"Hey there, Granger. Seen Malfoy?" Blaise Zabini strolled around the shelves, surprise that he could only see the Head Girl sitting at what he knew was Draco's favourite table to study.

"Zabini!" Hermione's eyes flew open as she sat up straight, breath hitching. Draco stilled under the table when he heard both voices, his breath hot against her core. He didn't dare move just yet, waiting for her to get rid of his friend.

"Thought Malfoy would be here…" Blaise mused, reaching out to flick through the book on the table, Draco's abandoned chair still pushed out. "Looks like I just missed him. Mind if I join you?" He didn't wait for an answer, swinging Draco's seat around before straddling it, resting his arms on the backrest.

"J-join me?" Hermione's voice cracked slightly as the exotic brunet sat. She didn't recall having ever actually spoken to Blaise before, and couldn't recall seeing him during the War. Either way, she wasn't keen on having him around while Draco's head was buried between her thighs.

"Yeah, thought it might be nice to have a chat. We've never formally been introduced. Zabini. Blaise Zabini," Blaise stuck his hand across the table, oblivious to the torment Hermione was going through.

"Pleasure to MEET you!" Hermione's voice raised an octave at meet, Draco having grown bored of waiting, his tongue back to lazily swiping along her pussy before working to her clit, dragging over the sensitive bundle of nerves. Reaching out, she shakily grasped his hand, caught off guard when Blaise leaned forwards to press a kiss to the back of her hand rather than just shaking it.

"Congratulations, by the way. On making Head Girl," Blaise settled back against the chair, gesturing with his still outstretched hand to the badge pinned to Hermione's shirt.

"Oh, thANK you!" Hermione blushed furiously as her voice rose again in response to another wicked lick against her throbbing clit, her thighs tensing as she imagined crushing Draco's head between them. Blaise tilted his head to the side slightly at her changed tone, wondering if the witch was always like this.

"No worries… I've got to thank you, as well. For taking Malfoy off our hands. Six years in a dorm with him, I was definitely over it," Blaise wondered if mentioning his mate would give the same reaction, and he wasn't let down when Hermione jerked in her seat, her hand slamming down on the table surface. Underneath it, Draco grinned against her skin before getting to work, his teeth grazing over her clit before he licked his way back along her inner folds, parting them to find the slick entrance to her pussy. Thrusting his tongue, he buried it as deep as he could inside of her, the vibration of his satisfied moan felt against her sensitive flesh.

"Oh I bET he was a HANDFUL!" Hermione gripped the edge of the table, her nails digging into the wood as she leaned forwards, her thighs tensing around Draco's head as he tormented her and pushed her to the edge of orgasm. Her cheeks flushed bright red as her voice continued to rise and fall, each graze of Draco's tongue against extra sensitive areas inside of her pussy causing her to clench around him, and cry out.

"Yeah…" Blaise leaned back in his own chair, inspecting the Head Girl properly as she squirmed in her seat. "Are you okay, Granger?"

"Oh yeah, I'm fINE!" Hermione buckled against the table as Draco's fingers joined the foray, one pinch to her clit her ultimate undoing as she reached climax against his face, trembling in place, absolutely mortified that she was getting off in front of someone, but somehow getting more turned on by the thought.

"Are you- " Blaise was cut off as a wad of parchment thudded into the back of his head

"I've found it. Forget the prick, we'll sort him out later," Theodore Nott hissed. "Oh, hey Granger. Are you okay?" Theo blinked as he looked at the shuddering, flushed girl sitting at Malfoy's favourite table.

"I'm… fiiiiiineeeee!" Hermione gave a drawn out moan of a response, bucking her hips against Draco's ever tormenting tongue. "Just… just exaaaam stress!" she gasped, pushing herself to sit up, trying to stop her shaking.

"O… kay…" Theo gave Hermione a strange look before turning back to Blaise, "seriously, mate, we need to go now if we're going to get this sorted."

"Alright. Good chat, Granger… good luck with your exams," Blaise nodded to the witch before standing from the chair, both Slytherin's sharing a look before disappearing back around the shelves, no doubt heading back to their common room.

Slumping back into her seat, Hermione stretched her legs out as Draco pulled away, taking her panties with him. Emerging from under the desk, the blonde settled back into his seat, dropping the scrap of fabric onto the table, a wicked smirk on his glistening lips.

"Divine, Granger," He drawled, tongue flicking out a moment later to taste what was left of her arousal on his face.

"We're in the fucking library!" Hermione hissed as she tried to catch her breath.

"Fucking indeed," Draco's rumbling laugh was followed by a frustrated shriek, both 7th years quickly making their exit as Madam Pince made her move.


	22. Chapter 21

_I own nothing but the plot._

* * *

**July 10****th****, 1999**

"Is this really it?" Neville's voice was soft as he stood with the other 7th years gathered in the courtyard.

"It really is…" Padma Patil's voice was soft, gazing up at the castle in the morning sunlight, her arm entwined with her twin sister's.

"It's been a long time coming," Pansy Parkinson yawned, a hand coming up to cover her mouth. "What?! We all had to repeat!" she defended herself when heads swivelled, the other graduates looking at her incredulously.

"Tactful, Pans," Theo shook his head before wrapping his arm around the Slytherin witch's shoulders, pulling her against him.

"Do you think we'll ever come back? Where do we go now?" it was Susan Bones this time, the Hufflepuff piping up as she too looked at the castle, then around at the sprawling grounds.

"Does it matter if we do?" Pansy retorted.

"Oh shut up, Pans," another Slytherin witch, Tracy Davis rolled her eyes at her housemate. Pansy for her part just huffed, leaning against Theo.

"She's right. It doesn't matter," Hermione spoke as she looked around at the gathered seventh years, each of them having faced torment, trauma, war and more to stand where they were today, the four houses intermixed without hesitation.

"Hogwarts will always be here to welcome us home," Draco parroted a line often heard by Albus Dumbledore during their years within the castle walls. Stepping forwards, he threw an arm around Hermione, the other ending up over Neville's shoulders. "But for now, it's time to make our mark and shape our world."

One by one the seventh years stepped closer together, arms coming around one another as they embraced collectively. Silence settled over the courtyard as they stood together, the castle doors open in front of them, the white marble monument to the fallen shining in the bright sunlight.

Students streamed around the group, twenty four graduates standing as one as they remembered who they were, where they had been, what they had lost and what they had gained, the rest of the student body respecting their silence, only the steps of footsteps and trunks hitting against the cobblestones occasionally, school done and dusted for another year – the first year in a long time that anyone could remember there being no fear, no threats, no danger or even distrust.

* * *

Ginny Weasley made her way down the corridor of the train as it travelled back to London, a letter clutched in her hand. Knocking on doors as she passed, she poked her head in to deliver the message before moving onto the next. Ginny didn't think she'd ever seen such a mix of students in each compartment, but it was a testament to all they'd been through if nothing else. Reaching the last compartment, she finally found herself surprised, the message dying on her lips as stuck her head in.

Draco Malfoy was currently embroiled in a heated conversation with Tasmin Applebee, the Slytherin captain and Hufflepuff captain going head to head on whether the Tutshill Tornadoes would be able to finish at the top of the ladder in the upcoming season, or if Oliver Wood would finally lead Puddlemere United to victory.

Even more alarming to Ginny was the fact that Hermione Granger was reading what appeared to be a muggle magazine with Pansy Parkinson and Tracy Davis, the three witches engrossed in a conversation about fashion.

"What the fuck?" Ginny couldn't help it.

"What's up, Gin?" Neville glanced up from his game of exploding snap, leaning out of the way as Blaise and Theo lunged forwards to get the next point, the pair wrestling.

"I… um," Ginny blinked a few times, trying to remember what had brought here there in the first place. "Oh, right. Harry owled, party tonight at the Leaky Cauldron, all invited…" she trailed off, stunned as Patrick Bagby, one of the quietest Hufflepuff's she'd ever met, dived under the wrestling Slytherin's and slammed his hand over the smouldering deck of cards victoriously, drawing Neville's attention away from her. Realising that she wasn't going to get much else out of the odd group, Ginny slid the door shut before stepping away, making her way back to her own compartment.

"What the actual fuck."

* * *

The sun was starting to set as the train grew closer and closer to London, the nine young adults in the train compartment having set their conversation towards their plans for the future.

"I'm thinking Italy for a while," Blaise mused as he stretched out. "See what's about. Chase the dream, y'know?"

"Maybe I'll join you there! You've given me some ideas to work this muggle fashion into things, Granger," Pansy gave Hermione and appreciative nod, gesturing to one of the many magazines now stacked on the floor.

"Like hell you will," Blaise muttered, cringing.

"Asshole," Pansy huffed.

"I've got an internship at St Mungos," Tasmin commented idly.

"Me too," Patrick responded, casting a sideways look towards the other Hufflepuff, causing her to gasp in excitement.

"What!? You never told me that!" Tasmin bounced in her seat, eyes shining excitedly.

"Get a room, you two," Pansy made a gagging sound, the pair blushing furiously. "What about you, Granger? Got yourself some fancy internship too?"

"I've been accepted into a muggle university in Cambridge," Hermione attempted a small smile, slightly nervous at admitting to anyone that she was going to continue studying in the muggle world.

"Me too," Tracy Davis admitted quietly, every head in the compartment turning towards her, not one of them having expected to hear that from a Slytherin.

"For what?" Blaise cracked first.

"I want to study architecture," she kept her chin up, almost daring them to tease her. "I got into a school in Cambridge, too."

"Figures," Blaise just shrugged, kicking his foot out to knock into Draco. "What about you, Malfoy?"

"Potions Mastery," Draco gave a shrug of his own, and Hermione felt her heart swell as he announced that he had been accepted. "Mother's got some business ventures in Belgium, I'll look after them while I'm there."

"Wait, Belgium?" four voices chorused out, looking between Draco and Hermione. The Head Boy and Girl hadn't been as subtle as they'd thought, and every single person in the compartment assumed that they'd end up in an actual relationship.

Draco glanced to Hermione, trying to read her mood. They hadn't ever actually discussed what was going on between them. He knew they were friends, but he didn't know if she was interested in anything more after just leaving the Weasel, and she didn't know if he would ever actually be interested in a muggle-born for more than mindless sex. Tipping his chin after a few tense moments, Draco cleared his throat.

"Belgium."

* * *

"No Malfoy?" Harry asked as he pulled Hermione into a bone crushing hug. Ginny had been keeping him updated regularly on things at school during the year, and he was aware that something had been going on between his best friend and worst enemy – well, worst enemy alive, he supposed. Although from what Ginny had been telling him, maybe he had to reassess that, since the Slytherin wizard had made Hermione smile, laugh and come back into herself for the first time since the final battle.

"Why are you asking me?" Hermione hugged him back, her eyes closing as she savoured the hug, having missed her friend this year.

"Just wondering. Gin mentioned you guys were… friendly, after spending the year in the same dorm is all," Harry defending himself, waiting a moment to place a soft kiss to Hermione's cheek. "It's so good to see you again, Hermione. I missed you."

"You mean you missed me cooking for you?" Hermione smiled softly, unable to stop herself from having a dig at his terrible cooking skills – she'd spent their year on the run cooking, the wizard managing to make them violently ill more than once.

"Hey! I missed you! Kreacher helps with the cooking now…" Harry huffed, grimacing at the reminder that the elderly elf still tried to cook. Thankfully, Molly Weasley had kept him well fed for the last few months as he worked to turn Grimmauld Place into a home.

"That's… I don't even know what to say to that," Hermione scrunched her nose up, slowly pulling away from Harry's embrace to step to the side as more and more of the recent Hogwarts graduates made their way into the Leaky Cauldron, members of the Order mingling with them.

"It's something better left unsaid. And unthought. Definitely uneaten," Harry cringed again before nodding his head towards the bar, Tom the innkeeper currently behind it, grinning at the amount of money the group would rake in tonight with Harry's running tab. "Go get a drink. Open bar. Have fun, Hermione. You deserve it."

Hermione didn't get a chance to respond as Harry disappeared, his scruffy head of hair appearing a moment later besides a redheaded witch, the couple reuniting. Hermione just smiled as she watched them, although part of her heart cracked as she realised that she was definitely single, and her happily ever after didn't exist. Figuring that if she didn't have a happily ever after, she could at least make a happily right now.

"Two firewhiskey's, Tom," Hermione ordered, the innkeeper placing two glasses in front of her, filled with the liqueur. Raising the first to her lips, Hermione slammed it down in one gulp, chasing it with the second as her throat began to burn. Oh yes, this would definitely be her happily right now.

* * *

Hermione groaned as a loud, rippling snore tore her from slumber. Cracking her eyes open, she threw her hand over the side of the bed, searching blindly for the watch she usually kept on her bedside table. Frowning when her hand hit something solid but warm, her head turning to the side and taking in the definitely male form emitting each loud snore. Giving up on the watch, Hermione slowly swung her legs over the side of the bed, overwhelmed by the need to use the bathroom. She wasn't surprised to find herself naked, and was even less surprised at the pounding in her head.

She had no idea what time it was, but she was relatively sure based on the creaking floorboards and wrought iron bed that she was still at the Leaky Cauldron. The partier earlier in the night had progressed as well as anything involving Hogwarts students could, firewhiskey and other potent spirits flowing freely until almost everyone involved was completely trashed, Hermione included.

Stretching, she winced slightly as she felt a tinge of soreness between her legs, and it briefly crossed her mind that Draco hadn't been that rough the last few times, so it must have been the alcohol influencing them. Finishing her business in the bathroom, she grimaced at her reflection in the mirror as she washed her hands, her hair a wilder mess than usual, bags clear under her bloodshot eyes.

Emerging a few minutes later, Hermione did her best to keep the contents of her stomach where they belonged, nausea rippling through her thanks to the copious amounts of alcohol she ingested – she lost count of her drinks after nine and the whole night was fuzzy after George Weasley brought out a round of shots developed in his shop.

Padding back to the bed, she tried to recall if she'd heard Draco snore the times she found him sleeping in the common room. It wasn't until she was about to fall back across the mattress that she remembered that Draco hadn't come to the Leaky Cauldron, his portkey to Brussels having left almost immediately after the train pulled into Kings Cross.

The male in her bed stretched out, the pillow shifting to reveal a shock of bright red hair and the freckled face of Ron Weasley, just as naked as she was. Ron jerked a moment later as he managed to wake himself with the sound of his snoring, bolting upright and looking around with sleepy eyes and an even sleepier smile.

"'Sup 'Mione?" Ron didn't drop his smile, eyes raking along her bare form.

"I…" Hermione closed her mouth as she swayed slightly, not really sure what to say as she put two and two together, the soreness between her legs, complete lack of clothing and redhead in the bed spelling out a pretty obvious picture. Trying to come up with the right words, she opened her mouth again, no words forming as instead the results of a big night decided to show, unconsciously leaning forwards as she threw up on the wizard, only one thought going through her head the entire time.

Gasping as she emptied the contents of her stomach into his lap, she didn't take any notice of the horrified look on his face.

"Fuck."

* * *

_To the Guest who keeps leaving the most ridiculous comments that don't actually match the story - are you trying to troll me? Because you're not doing a great job. Thanks for the addition to the comments list though. _


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